Dante's patience was razor thin. Every heartbeat that passed without seeing Alina and the babies safe only fed the fire inside him. He had already lost too many people in his life, too many names buried in shadows, and he would not, could not, lose more.
His crimson eyes blazed like molten coals, each spark of fury turning into a storm that radiated from his body. The ground trembled beneath his power, the air grew heavy and suffocating. Trees bent away from him, their leaves burning at the edges, and the sky cracked with faint streaks of unnatural lightning.
Flix, who only moments ago had been smirking with arrogance, now faltered. His chest tightened as though invisible chains wrapped around him. He tried to push back with his own darkness, but the black flames he conjured flickered weakly, crumbling against Dante's overwhelming aura.
