Svetlana woke with a strangely comforting sensation. For the first time in days, her body felt rested. She had slept deeply, without nightmares, without sudden jolts awake. Only warmth. Only the solid weight of a man’s chest beneath her cheek, the steady heartbeat that had lulled her to sleep.

Dante.

His even breathing told her he was still asleep. He looked different like this—relaxed, the harsh lines of his face softened, the ever-present shadow of danger gone from his expression.

He seemed like a different man. More human. A man who, had she not known the truth, could almost pass for someone completely detached from that criminal world.

But she did know him.

And that’s why she wasn’t sure whether the admiration she felt in that moment was genuine… or just fear disguised as something else.

Because Dante Bellandi was a dangerous man.

And yet… she didn’t want to leave.

But she also… couldn’t stay.

Conflicted, Svetlana carefully slid out of bed, making sure not to wake him.

He grunted