The night air was thick with tension as I hurriedly stuffed my belongings into a duffel bag, my heart pounding in my chest. The dim light of the hotel room flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls, making everything feel like a scene from a thriller. I could still feel the adrenaline coursing through me from the confrontation with Dante. The plan was simple: escape to Nebraska, lay low, and start fresh.
But just as I zipped up my bag, a loud crash echoed from the door. My breath hitched in my throat as the door swung open, revealing Dante, his expression a mix of fury and something else—something darker.
“Rosella,” he growled, stepping into the room like a storm. “I was looking for you.”
“Dante, I—” I started, but he cut me off, advancing toward me with a predatory intensity.
“D
