The world tilted sideways as Selena's knees buckled beneath her. She felt the ground rushing up to meet her, but it never came. Instead, strong arms caught her mid-fall, cradling her against a chest that rose and fell with labored breathing. Through the haze clouding her vision, she recognized Dante's face above her, his features twisted with concern and something deeper—fear, perhaps, or fury at his own helplessness.
"I've got you," he murmured, his voice rough as gravel. "Stay with me, Selena."
She wanted to respond, to tell him she wasn't going anywhere, but the words caught in her throat. A sharp, splintering sensation radiated from the center of her chest, as if something vital within her was fracturing. The heart of bone—the cursed artifact that had sustained her through countless battles, that had kept her alive when she should have died—was finally failing.
