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DANTE
I stood by the window, the dim light casting long shadows across my face.I was silent, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, my eyes fixed on the cityscape outside.
The tension in my posture was palpable. I exhaled sharply, his brows furrowed in anger as he turned away from the window and faced Rhys, who stood across the room with a similarly grim expression.
Rhys leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his face a mix of concern and frustration. My gaze bore into him, his voice low but filled with barely controlled fury.
“Those men,”
I began, my words clipped,
“they were American.”
He paused, letting the words hang in the air, his eyes narrowing as he searched Rhys’s face for a reaction.
“Their accent… it gave them away.”
Rhys nodded, his expression darken
