The icy wind howled across the hills, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and fresh pine. In one corner, the fireplace crackled, casting a golden glow that flickered along the walls. And yet, the chill of Aspromonte crept through every crevice, sinking into the bones like a constant reminder of the danger lurking beyond.

Svetlana moved cautiously, her steps barely brushing the floor. With every footfall, her heart pounded wildly—an unrelenting drumbeat echoing in her ears. She knew she was being watched. She felt it in every nerve ending, in the way her skin prickled beneath Dante’s gaze.

He sat at the far end of the table, brow furrowed, fingers drumming against the aged oak. His relaxed posture was deceptive; every fiber of him radiated contained tension—a silent threat. But there was something else, too. Something that made her feel exposed in a way she didn’t understand.

Svetlana swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden longing rippling through her chest. She couldn’t affo