The private gym echoed with the rhythmic sound of Aria’s labored breathing and the heavy thud of her fists against the padded dummy. Sweat poured down her face and back, soaking through her training clothes as she attacked with everything she had. The emerald gown from the gala the night before felt like a distant memory now — replaced by the raw reality of survival in Dante’s world.
“Elbow higher,” Dante commanded, his deep voice firm but patient as he circled her. “Use your whole body, not just your arm. Again.”
Aria swung with renewed determination, her petite frame moving with growing precision. The charity gala had been a public victory, but this was her private battlefield. Every strike was a declaration that she would never again be the weak, crying girl who had signed that contra
