I turn my head.
His face is inches from mine.
Those dark eyes. That sharp jaw. The stubble that's grown thicker over the past few days.
"You don't have to see past tonight," he says. "You just have to get through it. And I'm going to help you. Okay?"
I stare at him.
At this man who killed his way into my life.
Who tracked me for two years.
Who showed up bleeding at my door and turned everything upside down.
"Okay," I whisper.
The SUV pulls forward.
We drive into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dante
The SUV accelerates through the alley.
I keep my arm around Marina, feeling the tremors running through her body. She's not crying anymore. That's almost worse. The silence means she's gone somewhere inside herself, somewhere I can't reach.
The driver takes a sharp left.
I brace Marina against the turn.
"You hit?"
Nico's voice comes from the front passenger seat.
I didn't see him when we got in. Too focused on Marina. Too focused on getting her out of that building before she shattered completely.
"No," I say. "We're clear."
Nico turns around.
The interior light catches his face. Sharp features. Dark eyes that miss nothing. He looks the same as always—controlled, calculating, dressed in black like he's ready for a funeral or a firefight.
"Marina." He nods at her. "Hi."
Marina's head lifts.
She stares at him.
For a long moment, nothing happens.
Then recognition flickers across her face.
Not the warm kind.
Not theoh, I remember youkind.
