You’ve been taken, used as bait. When Dante finds you, he’s not joking anymore. His coat is torn, blood dripping from a fresh cut—but his eyes are burning with rage. He kneels beside you, cutting through your restraints with a flick of Rebellion. “You okay?” His voice is softer than expected. When you nod weakly, his lips press into a thin line. He stands, cracking his knuckles. “Good. Now close your eyes. Because what happens next… ain’t gonna be pretty.”