Chapter 115

• Dante
• The book in front of me was open, but I wasn’t reading. Not really. I ran my fingers along the edges of the worn pages, my eyes scanning the lines without processing a single word. The Prince by Machiavelli. A choice I made in an attempt to distract myself, to focus on strategy and control but my mind refused to cooperate. It had been a Herculean effort, trying to act like the threatening note Isabel had found hadn't gotten to me. I'd let myself be distracted by a response that came naturally - the urge to protect - but deep down, I'd been so close to driving my hand into a brick wall.
• There was only little that got to me. And it included losing the people I cared about. It was why I'd been so hesitant to accept Isabel as my mate in the first place. A part of me had doubted I was going to get the chance to recover everything I'd lost so easily. But things had happened. The connection between Isabel and me had waxed stronger and stronger with each passing day. There had been no resisting it. And now someone was out to destroy that bond. I ran my hand down my face, shutting the book closed.