ARIA'S POV.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as shadows stretched across the walls. My body was tired, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Dante again—on his knees before the fire, syringe in hand, injecting himself with wolfsbane. The image replayed in my head like a broken record.
I rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket tight around me, but it didn’t help. I turned onto my back. Then my other side. The sheets tangled around my legs; my body was restless.
Nothing made sense.
Why wolfsbane? Why would anyone do that to themselves? And how could he look so… calm? A normal wolf would be screaming, writhing in agony, clawing at the ground to fight the pain and the burn from the inside. But Dante had looked relieved, almost peaceful, lik
