Amaya’s POV
Dante’s expression didn’t change, even when the door closed behind him. His eyes were still fixed on me, like he was expecting me to explain myself—but I didn’t feel like it.
So, I shifted my gaze and began walking back to my bed, but he couldn’t hold back.
“What happened?” he asked.
“You saw it yourself,” I responded flatly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, my hands curling around the edge of the blanket.
His gaze darkened. “Amaya.”
“I hit her.”
He blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”
“I hit her,” I repeated, my voice devoid of emotion. “Twice.”
His brow furrowed, like he was trying to decide whether he had misheard me. Then he walked over to the nightstand and set down the tray of food before shifting his attention back to me.
“And why would you do that?” he asked.
I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes without flinching. “Because she deserved it.”
Dante’s jaw clenched as he stared at me. It was clear there were a lot of things he wanted to say, but he s
