Elena's POV
After not picking Justin's call, my mind wandered around.The darkness pressed down on me, thick and suffocating. My wrists were sore, chafed raw from the restraints, and my head pounded from the rough way Dante had shoved me into the chair. The room smelled of damp wood and faint tobacco, the kind of smell that clung to him even years ago. He paced now, just a few feet away, his shadow stretched long on the peeling wall.
I tried not to flinch when his hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His fingers dug in too hard, the same way they had back then. My stomach twisted as his face blurred with memory, the boy I once loved, and the man who stood before me now.My mind couldn't forget that I could have ended up with this rascal.
"You don't look so high and mighty anymore, Elena," he sneered, his voice a cruel echo of the warmth I used to cling to.
