Chapter 242

The dream began with rain.

Not the soft kind — the kind that fell like broken glass.

It hit the earth hard, merciless, washing the color from the world until everything was gray.

And in the middle of it — him.

Dante...

He was on his knees, his hands slick with blood, his chest rising in shallow, ragged breaths. The bond between us pulsed weakly, like a dying heartbeat trying to keep rhythm against