Selene’s P.O.V
I froze in place.
I had been following Dante, a sense of unease clawing at me as he walked toward the guest room, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. The sound of his boots against the cold marble floors echoed through the hallway, making my heart race. There was something about the way he moved—too fast, too stiff—that told me something was wrong. A part of me wanted to call out, to ask him what was going on, but another part of me knew that whatever it was, I wasn’t ready for it.
My thoughts were interrupted when we reached the door. Dante paused for a moment, his back turned to me, and I watched the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened. There was a heaviness to his silence, an unspoken warning that crawled under my skin. But nothing could have prepared m
