Twenty minutes felt like twenty hours.
Dante and I waited in the war room, watching security monitors track Isabelle's transport from her apartment to our building. She wasn't resisting. Wasn't even asking questions, according to the team's report. Just sitting in the back of the SUV with that carefully composed expression I remembered from when she styled me.
Like she'd expected this. Like she's been waiting for it.
"She knew we'd figure it out eventually," I said.
"Or she's arrogant enough to think she can talk her way out of it." Dante stood behind me, close enough that I could feel his heat. Could still taste him from that kiss in the interrogation room.
A kiss that had been desperate. Claiming. A reminder that we were still alive despite everything trying to kill us.
"What are y
