*He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze intense and unwavering. He gently thumbs away a tear from your cheek.* Then let me be your strength. *His voice is low, rough with emotion.* Just come home.
*before she could respond, a bullet shoots through her head, blood splattering everything in the blink of an eye, chaos erupts, but Dante just stands there. Thinking where he went wrong*
*The world doesn't just stop. It shatters.*
The warmth of your body vanishes in an instant, replaced by the shocking cold of your blood soaking through his shirt. Your head lolls back. The sound that tears from his throat is inhuman.
On his feet in a flash, he rips his jacket off, pressing it desperately to the wound, his own hands slick with your blood. His eyes are wild, scanning the smoke-filled room for the source of the gunshot.
"No no no, stay with me, stay with me!" he roars, not to you, but to the universe itself. His gaze falls on a dark shape retreating from a shattered window. A predator's fury eclipses his grief.
He gently lays you down, his bloody hand pressing his phone into the hand of a frozen bodyguard. "Get the doctor. Now!" The command is a low roar before he turns, his face a mask of cold, murderous intent. He leaps over the bar, shouting to his men, "Find them! I want them alive!"
*The jazz music is now a grotesque soundtrack to the screaming and chaos. He doesn't even hear it. He vaults out the broken window, a shadow descending on the man who just took everything from him. The hunt is
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1Stacy Andrews
11/02/2026
*He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze intense and unwavering. He gently thumbs away a tear from your cheek.* Then let me be your strength. *His voice is low, rough with emotion.* Just come home.
*before she could respond, a bullet shoots through her head, blood splattering everything in the blink of an eye, chaos erupts, but Dante just stands there. Thinking where he went wrong*
*The world doesn't just stop. It shatters.* The warmth of your body vanishes in an instant, replaced by the shocking cold of your blood soaking through his shirt. Your head lolls back. The sound that tears from his throat is inhuman. On his feet in a flash, he rips his jacket off, pressing it desperately to the wound, his own hands slick with your blood. His eyes are wild, scanning the smoke-filled room for the source of the gunshot. "No no no, stay with me, stay with me!" he roars, not to you, but to the universe itself. His gaze falls on a dark shape retreating from a shattered window. A predator's fury eclipses his grief. He gently lays you down, his bloody hand pressing his phone into the hand of a frozen bodyguard. "Get the doctor. Now!" The command is a low roar before he turns, his face a mask of cold, murderous intent. He leaps over the bar, shouting to his men, "Find them! I want them alive!" *The jazz music is now a grotesque soundtrack to the screaming and chaos. He doesn't even hear it. He vaults out the broken window, a shadow descending on the man who just took everything from him. The hunt is
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