Elena's POV
His voice still echoed inside my skull like a demon that refused to be silenced.
"You provoked me, Elena. You always provoked me. And now… now, I'll finish what I should have done years ago. You'll pay for every scar, every humiliation. You will die, and you'll die by my hand."
My breath caught in my throat as Dante's words coiled around me, suffocating, venomous. My chest heaved, not only from the sting of his blows but from the sheer terror of realizing that this wasn't just one of his twisted games. This time, he wasn't bluffing. He meant it.
My pulse thundered against my ears when he dragged forward a heavy metal case, its hinges screeching open. One by one, he laid out his "tools" in front of me, like a deranged craftsman preparing for his masterpiece: blades glinting under the flickering bulb, ropes, something that looked like a crowbar, even wires. The cold, metallic smell mingled with the sour stench of my own blood on the floor.
