Elena's POV
The decision had been pressing on me for days. A quiet weight in my chest, heavier than anything Dante had chained me with. Never knew I was tgt broken.Freedom wasn't just walking out of that warehouse alive, or being discharged from the hospital, or being carried in Justin's arms like I was something precious and breakable.
Freedom was letting go, and I wasn't there yet.
The nightmares still clawed at me when I closed my eyes. Sometimes I woke with my fists clenched so tight my nails broke skin. Sometimes the scent of metal or smoke made my throat close. I had flashes of fear in the quietest moments, shadows creeping up when I least expected it.
And I realized something: I couldn't bury this. I couldn't pretend.
If I did, Dante would win, even in death.
So, one night, when Justin was brushing the back of my hand with his thumb, humming lowly like he always did when he thought I was falling asleep, I whispered, "Justin?"
He looked down at me instantly. "Yes, baby?"
