She shouldn't be here.
The thought circled through his mind like a vulture over carrion as he watched her through the crack in the door.
Mila Hart.
The girl who never should have existed in their world...the girl whose body should have been found in pieces by now, a message written in blood and bone.
Instead, she sat at Dante's desk like she belonged there.
His pulse thrummed beneath his skin, a warning beat that told him this was wrong. All of it. The way she leaned forward, eyes fixed on the computer screen with an intensity that made his stomach clench. The way her fingers moved across the keyboard—not hesitant, not afraid. Confident. Purposeful.
Like she had permission to exist.
