[Bianca]
Dante didn’t say much after.
Just leaned into me, breath hot and shallow on my neck, his body too tense, like he hadn’t quite returned from whatever place he’d disappeared into during the c*****e.
I let him hold me a little longer. Maybe for his sake. Maybe for mine.
But eventually, I whispered, “We need to go.”
He nodded—barely. When I helped him up, he winced so sharply I thought he’d black out. His weight slumped against my shoulder and I had to steady myself so we didn’t both end up face-first on the warehouse floor. He limped hard, dragging his feet as we made our way out. Every step must’ve sent waves of pain through his body—he was probably nursing more than one cracked rib. Maybe worse. Thankfully, no gun wounds.
Still, he didn’t complain. Just clenched his jaw and k
