She lay rigid on the edge of the bed, Dante's presence a dangerous weight behind her. Every breath he took felt deliberate, controlled—like he was awake too.
The message burned into her mind.
He was paid to choose who survives.
Her fingers tightened around the phone beneath the sheets.
"Stop pretending," she said quietly.
The silence shifted.
Dante exhaled slowly. "You should rest."
"That's not an answer."
He sat up, the mattress dipping. Moonlight cut across his face, carving shadows she'd never noticed before.
"Who paid you?" Aria asked again. "And who didn't survive because of it?"
For a long moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he spoke.
"Five years ago," Dante said, voice low, "your father brought me evidence. Enough to bury men far more powerful than Senator Virelli."
Aria's heart stuttered.
"He asked me to protect it," Dante continued. "I agreed."
"You said you didn't erase it."
"I didn't." His jaw clenched. "I moved it. And that's when the offers started."
Aria sat up, facing him fully now.
"Names," she demanded.
"Governments. Corporations. Crime