The sound of Dante falling wasn't a scream. It was a heavy, sickening thud followed by the mechanical hiss of the floor panels sliding back into place, sealing the pit like a tomb. For a second, the silence in the vault was louder than the explosion at the Spire.
Nala stared at the spot where the most powerful man in her world had just vanished. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of bone. Dante Moretti, the man who owned her breath, was gone. But the shadow that remained was far worse.
The stranger stepped out of the darkness and into the circle of harsh, violet light. He was gaunt, his skin the color of old parchment, and his clothes were rags stained with grease and dried salt. But it was his face that made Nala’s blood turn to ice. He had the same hi
