Dante POV
I could barely feel the floor beneath me as I walked. My boots echoed against the marble, but it sounded distant, like I was underwater. Everything was a blur.
My thoughts.
My blood.
My guilt.
She was alive.
My son was alive.
And I….God, I almost destroyed them both.
I didn't speak when Lucas fell in step beside me. I couldn't my , jaw was clenched so tight, it ached. My fists were curled, and I could still feel the way my hands shook back in the tea room, the shame clawing up my throat like acid.
We reached the study….my father's old sanctuary, now mine. I pushed open the door, not caring that it slammed against the wall. The room still smelled faintly of leather, brandy, and old smoke.
I walked straight to the decanter and poured a drink with trembling hands. It spilled over the rim.
Lucas closed the door behind us. "You good?"
"No," I said hoarsely. "I'll never be good again."
He didn't say anything. Just nodded like he understood.
