Chapter 100

• Dante paced the dimly lit room, his mind a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. The shadows seemed to close in around him, amplifying his restlessness. He couldn’t shake Aria from his mind; her image haunted him. The more he tried to push her out of his thoughts, the stronger her grip became, tightening like a noose around his sanity.
• The thought of her living with Zander, sharing her life—and her body—with him, made Dante’s blood boil. Only he owned her. Only he had the right to touch her. The fury surged through him, and his fists tightened at the thought. She was out there, living a free life somewhere, while he was trapped in this prison of obsession, unable to escape her memory.
• He hated feeling this way. Control was everything to him, and yet here he was, ensnared by memories of her—her lips, her innocence, the way she had looked at him with those captivating eyes. It made him feel vulnerable, exposed. It infuriated him.