The blacked-out car rolled to a stop in front of a steel-reinforced underground structure on the outskirts of the city—a property so tucked away that even Google Maps wouldn't recognize it. Anastasia stepped out cautiously, her heels clicking against the concrete with each step as her gaze swept over the ominous exterior. The place didn't look like a basement; it looked like a bunker designed to hide sins that never saw the light of day.
Dante walked ahead with his usual commanding gait, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black coat, his presence alone enough to make the two guards at the door stiffen. Anastasia followed, her thoughts in turmoil. She hated this—hated that this was becoming normal. Surveillance footage of Roger entering her mother's ward had thrown her nerves into chaos, and now, here she was, walking into a secret prison Dante had access to without blinking.
And then there was Lucien—leaning casually against the wall near the heavy, bolted entrance door.
