The first sensation that hit me was pain, a slow, throbbing ache emanating from my shoulder, binding me like a heavy chain. It pulled me into consciousness, compelling me to open my eyes as I struggled through the fog of fatigue. The room was poorly lit, filled with the sharp scent of antiseptic and, underneath it, hints of whiskey and leather a familiar presence.
Dante.
Even before my vision adjusted, I sensed him there. He had a way of occupying the space around him without sound, his essence pressing against my awareness like an unseen force. I forced myself to take steady breaths, maintaining a neutral expression as I turned my head slightly, confirming my suspicions.
He was sitting beside my bed, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of dark liquor in his hand. His jacket was abs
