. . . ELEANOR I sat on the edge of the plush, leather couch in the dimly lit room, my fingers nervously wrapped around myself. The tension in the air was palpable, almost suffocating. The events of the previous night had left an indelible mark on me, and the unsettling messages I had received still echoed in my mind. The room was silent except for the sound of Dante’s footsteps as he paced back and forth, the soft thud of his shoes against the hardwood floor a constant reminder of the unease we both felt. Dante, with his phone pressed against his ear, spoke in a low, urgent tone, his voice filled with an authority that demanded immediate action. "Increase the security. I don't care what it takes, just make sure every corner is covered," he ordered, his eyes darting around th

