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“Mia vita.” The reverence in Dante’s tone takes me by surprise, and even though I don’t know what he’s said, he says it with such devotion and admiration that it’s almost jarring. Gone are the harsh lines around his lips, and there’s a softness in his eyes that I wouldn’t have thought him capable of. It’s like looking at a completely different Dante to the one I’ve been forced to put up with for the last forty-eight hours.
Is this the Dante Red sees? The one she believes was worthy of being spared that day in the church? The one who made her fall for him?
“You saved me. Saved Dante. Probably saved us all. No matter what happens next, none of us would choose to be anywhere else. This is where we were always meant to end up—the five of us. If I die today, then knowing I’ve had your love for these last few months is enough for me.”
“What are you going to do?” At my question, Dante’s eyes dart to mine. “Follow your example, mia vita, and chop off the heads of anyone who doesn’t surrender to me.”
Leaning up on his elbow, Oliver strokes a thumb over my cheek. “You are so loved, Red.” God, I know.
