Chapter 15

I groaned, my eyes slowly fluttering open. Startled, it felt as if I were facing a ghost. With a gentle moan, I whispered, “Dante,” my voice tinged with shock.

Dante remained composed, his countenance void of emotion, while I struggled to piece together the events preceding this moment. Closing my eyes briefly, my head throbbed mercilessly. It flashed in my mind: the last memory—breakfast interrupted by sudden, searing pain and the onset of bleeding.

Shifting my gaze away from Dante, I surveyed the room, a paradox of brightness and darkness. It dawned on me—I was in my own room.

“What happened?” My voice trembled, the awkwardness of the situation magnified by Dante’s unsettling presence. His face, once pale and distant, now flushed slightly, his eyes darkening. My heart raced, my head ached.

“Maria,” Dante’s voice, a gentle growl, softened the hardened frown. He drew closer, and with each step, a surge of anxiety coursed through me.

Swallowing hard, I winced in pain as Dante abruptly