IslaThe next night, I stood in front of the mirror in my room, my reflection staring back at me, a mixture of anxiety and determination swirling in my gut. I wore a sleek black dress that hugged my curves in all the right places, its fabric smooth against my skin. Dante had insisted I dress for the occasion, and though I hated to admit it, I looked good. But looking good felt like dressing up for a funeral—my own.The heaviness of what lay ahead pressed down on me. I was about to step into a world I had only heard about in whispers, one filled with danger and deception. Dante was waiting for me, his dark shadow looming large, and I could almost feel his eyes on me, assessing, judging.“Are you ready?” he called from the other side of the door, his voice low and commanding.I took a deep breath and opened the door, forcing myself to walk into his gaze. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.He looked me up and down, a flicker of approval in his eyes before
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