For a second, the man bleeding on the garage floor looked like the Dante I had once loved. He searched my face for tears, waiting for his rescue to earn what he wanted.
I stepped back. His bloodstained fingers closed on empty air.
“Kira,” he rasped. Black blood broke over his lip. “I paid my debt with my life.”
“Your debt?” I looked down at him. “Don’t mistake this for a sacrifice, Dante. It’s a payment.”
His eyes, already glazing over, widened in confusion.
“This is the price of locking those church doors. I suffocated while you protected your pride. You are paying for what you did, nothing more.”
His hand dropped to the floor. The hope left his face.
I turned toward the waiting Rolls-Royce while his gasps echoed through the garage. My father’s head of security held the door.
I st
