ELENA’S POV
The safehouse was quiet.
Not the peaceful, quiet kind that lets your shoulders drop and your mind slow down.
This is the kind of silence that comes after everything falls apart.
Rain taps softly against the windows. Somewhere in the apartment, pipes hum inside the walls. A lamp glows in the corner, leaving the edges of the room in shadow.
Everyone has gone to their rooms.
It’s just us now.
Dante stands near the window, staring out like he’s watching something only he can see. His shoulders are tight, his posture alert, like he’s still expecting bullets to come through the glass.
I sit on the couch with my hands twisted together in my lap. I don’t even realize how tight my fingers are until they start to ache.
We sit in silence.
It isn’t empty.
It feels heavy with ev
