Your wrists ache from the restraints. The demon that took you has been talking for hours, gloating about vengeance, about turning Dante’s greatest weakness into a lesson. You stopped listening. Your focus is on survival. On holding on long enough for Dante to save you.

And then it happens.

The air shifts. Thickens. You feel it before the demon does. Like a storm rolling in. The scent of smoke, ash, steel. And beneath it, something primal. Ancient.

The door doesn’t open so much as it explodes. And there he is.

Dante walks into the room like death made flesh. Eyes glowing faintly red. Every step is deliberate. Controlled. His expression is unreadable, but his jaw is tight, fists clenched, and his silence is more terrifying than a war cry.

The demon lunges toward you, but Dante moves faster.

Rebellion sinks into the ground between them with a crack that shakes the floor. Dante’s hand finds the demon’s throat. Lifts it.

“You touched her.” He doesn’t shout. Doesn’t growl. Just states it. Like a death sentence.

And then the room is nothing but violence. Dante is moving quicker than your eyes can track, the demon barely keeping up with him. It's over relatively quickly. Limbs, blood, silence.

When it’s over, he kneels at your side, breathing hard. His hands are shaking as they cradle your face. He doesn’t speak right away. Just stares at you, searching, memorizing. Like if he looks away, you’ll disappear.

"Never again." He pledges, barely above a whisper. "You're never leaving my goddamn sight ever again."