Page 151 of Dante
About the way Nico watched her.
Not like a threat.
Like a puzzle he needed to solve.
Like something precious he needed to protect.
"She didn't get scared of him," I say.
Marina's eyes meet mine.
"And that was enough?"
"For her, yes."
The SUV slows.
We're approaching a checkpoint.
Nico exchanges words with someone outside, and we continue through.
Marina watches the exchange.
Her body is still tense.
Still coiled.
But she's here now.
Present.
Not lost in that empty space where trauma takes you.
Marina
The SUV descends into an underground garage.
We're in the basement of a building.
A tall one.
I didn't see the exterior when we pulled in, but I felt the descent. The ramp spiraled down and down, taking us deeper underground with each turn.
The driver parks.
Nico exits first, scanning the garage before nodding at Dante.
Dante's hand finds the small of my back.
"Can you walk?"
I nod.
My legs feel like they belong to someone else, but they work. They carry me out of the SUV and across the floor toward the elevators. Dante stays close. His wound must be screaming at him—he's been moving too much, doing too much—but his face shows nothing.
The elevator doors open.
We step inside.
