The night air carried a heaviness that made the walls of Dante’s mansion feel tighter than usual. Even though the fires had been put out and the broken pieces swept away, something deeper lingered in the atmosphere, an unease no amount of rebuilding could erase.
Elena stood at the window of her room, watching the moon slip behind passing clouds. Her hands were clasped together, her fingers trembling slightly. The mansion had been quiet for hours, but silence didn’t always bring peace. Not tonight.
Someone had tried to attack her. Again.
And this time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the threat wasn’t just against her life. It felt personal, as if the enemy knew something about her that she didn’t.
Behind her, the door opened with a soft creak. She didn’t need to turn around to know
