POV: DANTE
The morning sun was harsh on Dante's face as he stood on the terrace of his estate in Rome, looking out at the city spread below him like a kingdom he was about to reclaim.
His legs were perfect now. No pain, he has complete mobility now . The experimental treatment The Covenant had provided had worked beyond anything he'd dared to hope for. The healing was complete. The recovery was absolute. And for the first time since the warehouse in New Jersey, Dante felt like himself again.
He felt dangerous.
He felt unstoppable.
The memory of Salvatore came to him like it always did in moments of clarity. His brother, dead in a Rome alley because Dimitri Valentino had decided he wasn't worth preserving. Four months, and the wound hadn't closed. Four months, and Dante could still see his brother's face in those final moments, could still feel the rage of losing him, could still taste the hunger for revenge.
Salvatore.
And then there was Isabella.
