Chapter 26 · No Permission to Die

The hook clanged against the iron railing right over my head. Scraping metal. Then the rope snapped taut.

Someone was scaling the terrace.

Total blackout. The bedroom had vanished into ink—the marble bed frame, the reinforced balcony bars, the black lake out past the glass. The only things real were the blood pounding behind my teeth and Dante’s grip snapping around my wrist.

Same brutal hold as our wedding night.

Same blistering heat in his skin.

Only this time, he wasn't pinning me down to break me. He was yanking me flat.

"Get low," he growled against my ear. "Now, Lucia."

I hit the floor behind the base of the bed. Cold marble bit straight into my bare knees. When his hand slid down my forearm, a warm, slick smear coated my skin. Blood.

His blood.

The convoy ambush had tagged him on the drive back. The bastard hadn’t said a damn word about it once we cleared the gate. Just tied a strip of linen over his bicep like it was a paper cut.

"You're bleeding on me," I whispered.

"I'll buy you a new dress."

A combat boot hit the terrace flagstones outside.