The silence in the room was barely broken by the soft murmur of the wind tapping against the windows and the steady rhythm of their breathing. Dante woke tense, a jolt running down his spine. Reality hit him immediately: the betrayals, the lurking danger, the pressure of being the boss… and Svetlana, so close, so vulnerable.

Beside him, she shifted gently, her tousled hair tangled in the pillow, her eyes still sleepy but so damn beautiful under the soft glow of the lamp left on.

“What’s wrong?” she murmured, her voice hoarse and drowsy.

Dante shook his head, forcing himself to feign calm.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

But it was a lie. He couldn’t sleep—not with the tension tightening his chest, not with the shadow of betrayal hanging over his people, not with her lying next to him, so damn close…

He sighed in frustration and settled back. Svetlana turned on the bed, giving him her back, and he simply pulled her close, wrapping her in a protective embrace. He wanted to feel her warmth,