Day Four.
Morning: Dante didn't come. Novalee waited, tense, expecting him any moment.
He never arrived.
Instead, Atlas brought breakfast. "He's away on business. Won't be back until tonight."
Relief flooded through her. A reprieve. A day to heal.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For telling me."
Atlas just nodded and left.
Novalee spent the day resting. Really resting. Her body needed it. The bruises were layering—new on top of old. The cut on her lip was infected. Everything hurt.
But she was alive.
Still fighting.
Still unbroken.
Evening: Dante returned in a foul mood. Something had gone wrong with his business.
He took it out on her.
He didn't say a word when he came in. Just grabbed her, threw her onto the bed face-down.
"Dante, what—"
"Shut up." His voice was cold, dead
