Isabella's smile softens as she looks down at her. "No, honey," she says gently. "I'm not mad at your Papà."
She lifts her gaze to mine, and the air between us shifts again — quiet, warm, and dangerous in a different way.
"I'll do everything I can to help him keep you safe," she finishes.
But her eyes never leave mine.
And I know she isn't just making a promise to Sofia.
She's making one tome.
Chapter 19
Thehouse feels softer tonight.
Quieter.
Maybe it's just me.
Maybe after everything that's happened—after the shouting, the accusations, the bruising kind of fear—I've finally stopped waiting for the next blow to fall.
I walk the long hallway toward my room, bare feet silent against polished floors, replaying the day in my head like a film on a loop.
The fight.
The kiss that burned like a confession.
And then, hours later, Sofia tugged me by the hand, proud and bright, showing me the few lines she'll recite in her play tomorrow.
For a little while, we just sat on the floor together, paper crown crooked on her head, her laughter spilling into the air like it had been waiting for somewhere safe to land.
And it hit me how easily I fit here.
How natural it feels to move through this house, to hear Dante's low voice down the hall, to see his daughter's smile when she looks at him.
I used to think this world was nothing but rot and blood.
But now I've seen the part he built to protect, not destroy.
He could have thrown me to the wolves the night everything went wrong.
Instead, he stood between me and them.
Maybe that's what love looks like in a world like his—fierce, bruised, and willing to bleed for what it can't name.
I'm still thinking that when I round the last corner—and stop short.
He's there.
Leaning against the wall across from my door, sleeves rolled, eyes dark and unreadable.
My pulse jumps. "Couldn't sleep?"
He shakes his head once, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. "Wasn't planning to."
I move to step past him, but he shifts—fast—and suddenly his arm is braced beside my head, his body crowding mine, caging me gently against the wall.
The air thickens instantly.
