Shirley
It had been three days since Dante last looked at me. Three days since his voice, once the anchor that grounded me in the chaos, turned into silence sharp enough to cut bone. The man who once set my skin alight with a glance now treated me like a ghost haunting his territory—present, but untouchable.
And the worst part? I didn’t even blame him.
Elias Vane’s name between us was a curse neither of us could escape. Every time I remembered the shattered look on Dante’s face when I confessed that my biological father was his greatest nightmare, it twisted my insides until breathing felt like swallowing glass.
The clubhouse was noisy that night—laughter, the rattle of beer bottles, music vibrating against the walls—but beneath it, silence lived between Dante and me.
I sat at the far
