he inhaled, breathing in the impurities. He stood in the middle of it, a safe house, empty except for a scarce scattering of furniture.
"Dante, please..."
Dante's back grew rigid at the sound of the feminine voice. He knew the voice. It surrounded him, soothing him, while somehow also setting off an alarm in his mind.
This isn't right.
"Dante, look…"
He turned, his blood freezing, sludge clogging his veins when those icy blue eyes met him through the darkness. He blinked. Still there. Blinked again. Still there. His forehead creased as those eyes held his gaze. "Genna?"
She stepped closer at the sound of her name, out of the shadows and into the haze, a sliver of moonlight coming from a nearby window catching her. The light glowed around her, and Dante's heart nearly stopped. Months had passed in the haze, a haze where he tried to not think about what might've happened to his sister.
She looked exactly the same.
"Genna," he whispered, tears stinging his eyes as he yanked her into his arms. "I've missed you."
"Dante," the panicked voice gasped in his ear, desperation clinging to every syllable. "It's on fire."
Fire. The word was like a command, a trigger in his brain. The second it registered, he felt the explosion of heat, flash fire blasting through the room and igniting everything. The ground quaked. He winced as pain rushed through his body, flames lapping at his skin. He guarded his sister, knocking her down, covering her with his body, a human shield from the fire, but he wasn't enough to keep her from harm. He was nothing but flesh and bone, muscle and scar tissue, thin skin and frail organs. He was no match for an angry blaze, one determined to consume everything around it.
A scream pierced his ears as his body shook. "Dante!"
His eyes shot open, the fire around him extinguishing at once, smothered by the thick darkness and leaving only the haze. He blinked, coated in sweat, panting as he tried to catch his breath. Another pair of eyes watched him—dark, concerned eyes.
Gabriella stood beside the bed, frightened.
"What's wrong?" he asked, forcing himself up, still groggy.
"It's on fire," she said, her voice trembling.
Dante's back straightened, his expression falling at those words, as he braced himself for a blast of pain that didn't come. It's not a fucking dream, he had to remind himself. Not now. Not anymore.
"What's on fire?" He looked around the room, not smelling any smoke. "What are you talking about? Come here."
He reached for her, having the desperate urge to hold her, to pull her into his arms and feel her breathing, but she resisted, waving toward the window. "I'm serious, Dante. Something is on fire!"
Dante stalked over, dragging Gabriella with him. Thick black smoke touched the night sky, orange glow lighting up part of the neighborhood.
Shit.
"People were yelling," she said. "I don't know what happened, but it was loud enough to wake me. There were a bunch of bangs and I thought those guys were out there fighting again, but then it just exploded."
"It exploded?"
"The ground shook, and then something went whoosh. I don't know if it's a car or a building, but something's burning."
His stomach sank. She was right. Something was burning. And in this neighborhood? It likely wasn't accidental.
Hell doesn't burn unless the devil lets it.
Dante snatched up some clothes and pulled them on, not bothering with any socks before shoving his feet into a pair of shoes. "Stay here, okay? Lock up the apartment behind me."
"Why?" she asked, following him out of the bedroom. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to check things out."
"But—"
He kissed her before she could protest any more and ran out the door.
"Be careful!" she shouted.
Dante scaled the stairs, bursting out into the cold night. Four, maybe five in the morning, he gathered. Dante kept his head down as he hurried down the block, jogging across the street to the corner, his breath surrounding him in an icy cloud.
Flames spilled out the front of a building, shattered glass covering the sidewalk in front of it, mixed with glints of metal. As soon as Dante laid eyes on the place, he knew what was burning.
Casato.
People gathered around outside, shouting, pacing the street, nobody daring get too close to the fire. Dante sprinted to it, forcing his way through the crowd.
"Is everyone okay?" he called out. "Anyone hurt?"
"Don't know," a guy said, eyeing him warily. "If anyone's in there, well, hell, they're already dead. No point looking."