Scarlet’s POV
I saw him push me aside like I meant nothing, and then he left.
Dante… he left.
I stood there, frozen in the middle of his room, trying to make sense of the man who just stormed out. I had never seen Dante like that before, so angry, so cruel with his words. It was as if every ounce of warmth he once had for me had turned into ice, sharp enough to pierce through me.
When I first came here, he looked at me like I was someone. Like I mattered. His eyes didn’t just see me, they sought me. Wanted me. He flirted so shamelessly, so boldly, that for the first time in years, I felt desirable. Worthy. Alive.
Rome had tried to kill me the moment I crossed the threshold of this pack, but Dante had stepped between us like a shield. He took me in, brought me under his roof, wrapped me in silk and laces, as if I were something precious. He didn’t just give me food and a bed. He gave me dignity. A sense of safety I hadn’t felt in years.
When Hector tried to hurt me, Dante didn’t hesitat
