Fall by Autumn Archer

10

Ever so slowly, Dante rakes both hands through his hair, calm and contained. He visibly strains to keep the mercurial el Fantasma in check, lingering in limbo between the two personas.

As much as I accept his decision, it doesn’t stop the ache in my heart from doubling, tripling, quadrupling, when his gaze cuts away from me. The viperous energy collides with my belly, threatening to reduce me to a mound of shattered ice. I will never land at his feet again or shed another teardrop. It took a single second for him to push me out of a helicopter and a fleeting moment to destroy me with an apology. There is nothing but trauma in this relationship. It’s both brutal and passionate, where fantasies crash into reality with a fatal blow.

“Fine,” I reply on a murmur, praying my voice doesn’t come across as weak. “It’s obvious we had different expectations of this arrangement. You’re right. I should leave.” Every part of me shakes, wishing he will change his mind. With a forced surge of strength, I walk away. “I’ll grab a shower, and then I would appreciate it if you showed me the way to the Oasis. I'd like to say goodbye to Sal.”

His teeth clench, and he scrapes the curve of his jaw with short nails. Then he takes another deep breath before he replies, “You will join me for breakfast after your shower.” Before I can respond, he pivots to the modest kitchen island.

I swallow a gulp of bitter fury. We’ve gone from fucking to hating each other all over again. Even as I think about it, I recognize the lies I’m weaving. I don't really hate him. Perhaps I never did. All I know is, he’s only interested in a woman he can control, and I’m definitely not that person. We both know it. The pandemonium of colorful parrots congregating on branches as pretty ornaments understand the dynamics.

He was my master, feeding off my submission. I was his naïve plaything, romanticizing the jungle.

“I’m not hungry,” I say casually, disguising the gaping hole of rejection carved into my chest.

His peridot gaze snaps to mine. “That was an order, beija flor.”

“Of course it was,” I mutter under my breath.

Dante pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily. “We can at least be civil.”

That's the last thing I desire from him. How about equality? I shrug my shoulders, simultaneously peeling his soft T-shirt up and over my head. “Well then, please offer me the courtesy of a shower without interruptions.”

He actually groans with a ragged rasp. Rooted in place, his hands ball and a blistering green gaze flips my stomach upside down. I’m playing a wicked game of tease to win back a degree of power. Baiting his true emotions. Tugging on the fine leash that ties Dante to his hummingbird.

I’m allowed to wander to the opposite side of the treehouse, so I sway my hips and shake out my curls. The few yards of distance puts me out of reach, but not out of sight. When I glance back, everything inside me shrinks. Instead of hungry eyes, I find the back of his head showing me he’s disinterested in my little display.

In a matter of minutes, I’ve gone from agreeing to leave, to silently begging to postpone my departure. No matter the cost, he’s giving me freedom, and that’s more important than living a fake life as a disposable mistress.

I shower off the silly notion of an impractical adventure with an unpredictable, handsome man and peer over at him every few minutes. He’s since covered his eyes and shaded his face with a cap. Holding a radio to his mouth, he paces the outside deck. His body is stiff like a grenade only seconds away from detonation.

Under thundering streams of fresh water, I catch an uncertain breath and stare at his glorious physique and detailed spinal tattoo. The outline comes alive with every flexed muscle and movement. Fierce wildcat jaws snarl when he shrugs out the tension in his shoulders. A lithe feline, sketched into his skin, prepares to pounce on anyone who stands in his way.

I’ve appreciated the male form before, and even considered them to be defined. However, this man’s half naked build with hard earned muscular contours and glowing sun ingrained skin are the key to my rapid undoing. An aphrodisiac of sorts. His perfection isn’t spoiled by the scars on his hands, it’s dangerously unique and desirable.

Culpability steals the last reserve of energy from my legs. I become lightheaded in the knowledge of a downward spiral. Covering my face with both hands, I drown in the bitter revelation.

I’m falling for him. Utterly captivated by a guy who is incapable of love, never mind trust. I want to scream at myself for the tragic emotions burrowing deep inside me. They have no right to bloom where his darkness rules. I created a lie where I stayed in the wilderness for important research. That discovery was the primary reason. In truth, it was all about him. I honored Dante with a title so grand that he was bound to crumble under its weight. I considered him my re-inventor. My creator.

Birds take flight. Animals stir. Chopper blades whirl overhead. I suck in a mixture of water and oxygen, anticipating my early departure. Instead of signaling over to me, he nudges the sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose and covers his hands with gloves. He strolls along the curved walkway to a landing platform, without a single glance in my direction.

A black duffle bag drops from the sky. Dante flicks his wrists and gives a thumbs up to the pilot. The helicopter levitates, disturbing the peace—and leaves without me on board.

In a hurry, I turn off the shower and reach for a rolled-up towel. My gaze never leaves him. He tosses the hefty bag on the bed and removes the contents like he’s ripping out organs. It’s fast and angry. Whatever the items are, they’re taking the brunt of his sour mood.

Carefully padding closer, his shoulders brace. He slides off the frames, hiding his eyes, and looks right at me. His throat bobs as he swallows. Stern eyes flash with an unreadable glaze of winter green. “Clothes, beija flor. Put on the damn clothes.”

I overlook the harshness of his glare and inch towards the heaped garments. “A uniform?” My breath catches.

“It’s all I have at short notice. Does it bother you?” He folds his arms over his golden chest.

It should rattle my psyche to wear the clothes I once desperately wished to burn when I first arrived. Instead, I only feel gratitude for his timely display of thoughtfulness. “No, it doesn’t. Can I wear your T-shirt instead of the ugly shirt?”

His eyes skim over the towel hiding my nakedness, and for a brief moment, I sense indecision. He feels something. It’s written all over his tight features and cloudy stare. The awareness electrocutes my heart. A shiver of hope runs through me. And before it escalates, he moves his head from side to side and sighs. The new erection straining behind his shorts tells me he wants me too. That this display of dominance, it’s a sham.

He blinks slowly. “Take your pick, beija flor. Once you're dressed, join me outside.”

“Dante,” I whisper out his name. His lashes lift. “What’s really happening here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why can’t I stay and walk around like I did before?”

His jaw works as he thinks on the answer. “We’re not on the same page. Get dressed.” The gravelly Latino lick scratches my questions to tatters and leaves me angry.

“That’s not an answer,” I challenge, folding my arms.

Dante jerks forward and stops short of touching me. He studies my cheek, reminding me of the healing cut I’d all but forgotten about. “I’ve made up my mind. The Oasis is for business only. It’s not safe for you.” His teeth grind together. “You got off lightly with just a scratch on your face.” His posture lengthens a fraction, giving him splendid regency. “Enough of the analyzing, Iris. I’ll arrange your departure for the next sunrise.”

“Analyzing?” I raise my tone. “That’s what I do,” I scorn, grabbing his arm when he turns away. “I look at the facts, document growth and record my findings. And guess what?” A strangled laugh bubbles in my windpipe. “I’ve come to the conclusion that you're pushing me away to stop yourself from facing up to the facts. To the real truth. Or are you trying to be a cruel bastard, is that it? Perhaps you're corroded inside and too weak to fix it.”

Dante freezes. His mouth forms a firm line while his chest expands. Slowly stripping his hands free of concealment, he angles towards me and raises a forefinger in front of my face, noticeably vibrating. “Don’t you dare imply that I’m weak.” He swallows hard. “You have no idea how cruel I can really be.” A tight breath shudders from his lungs. Violence and power wrestle for supremacy as he struggles to balance the two. “He shot my sister dead with a single bullet meant for me. They shoved the gun into my hand, imprinting my fingerprints and capturing false evidence to incriminate me. And guess what I did?” He hisses, leaning in, almost tasting the saltiness from his skin. “I held my hands over the flames that burned our home to the foundation. I melted off my fingerprints to ensure I’d never be accused of killing her.” The deep-rooted pain in his eyes slices up my heart, and when he pounds his chest with a fist, my legs go fuzzy with sorrow. “And the irony of it all is that my actions killed her. I took too many risks. Put her in danger. Shook hands with the bad guys. She was the only person in the world that mattered to me. I didn’t give a fuck about the fancy new house I bought for us or the stacks of cash I earned. I made the biggest mistake of all by letting a deceitful, lying snake into her life, even when my gut told me he couldn’t be trusted. My love for her blinded my decisions because I would’ve done anything to make my sister happy. She was the only family I had. We had each other.” He swallows a snarl and snatches my throat. “I will not make another wrong decision. You’re leaving, and I’m cruel enough, powerful enough and relieved that I’m sending you away.”

My eyes gloss with tears. I refuse to let them fall when I witness the metamorphosis. When Dante slips from his pedestal and el Fantasma takes his place. I latch onto his wrist and yank his hand while straining my neck. My throat bobs against his palm, reminding me that one rash move and he could steal my last breath. A smoke screen of distance comes between us as he relives the past and suffocates under years of festering aggression.

Fingertips bite with residual burning fire. “I’m not scared of you, el Fantasma,” I choke out.

Those ruthless disfigured fingers snap apart, and he shakes out his hands like the touch scalded him deeper than flames from his memories. I scurry back, giving me a foot of safety, then stand upright and tighten the towel around my chest.

Anger hazed eyes narrow, and he pockets his hands. “Don’t call me that ever again,” he warns. “Do you understand me?”

I tip forward, conscious that it's only muggy air and emotions separating his volatile mood from my brazen streak. “That’s who you really are. Isn’t it? The side of you that thrives on punishment,” I hiss, rubbing my neck, certain it’s bruised. “You want to hurt me because you think I can’t be trusted. That I’ll hurt you too.”

He laughs, but it’s not out of amusement. “You think I’m worried about you hurting me?” His tone darkens to a spine-tingling growl.

“Why else would you demand control and obedience?” I can’t help myself from glaring at his rigid physique, spending too many seconds staring at his washboard stomach that ripples as the muscles move with hostility.

“You’re going home because I don’t want to babysit you anymore.” He’s wound up like a coiled spring ready to lunge at me from across the room. “You’ve outstayed your welcome.”

“Now you’re the liar!” My teeth jar with the force of my gritted outburst.

He flinches. “I don’t want this… inconvenience.” The words beat out a slow rhythm. “You’re delusional if you ever thought things between us would end well.”

“Oh really?” I goad. “I’m not blind. It’s clear we’ve planted a toxic seed together, and it’s growing into an intimidating species. A unique flower that’s poisoning the both of us and making us so sick that even thousands of miles apart won't cure it.”

Furious hands fly to the crown of his head like he’s searching for his barbed crown to fix it back in place. “Get dressed, Iris. I’m not the guy you’re looking for.” His growl is too real to ignore.

I don’t believe he’d ever truly hurt me. We’ve had moments of intensity and threats of a deadly war, but never the true sense of abuse. My legs feel shaky when I dare to close in on him and face whatever side of his personality that wins his attention. “You live in a world protected by electric currents with miles of boundaries and lookout towers.” I look up at him, watching my defiant whisper make him falter. “You rule the Oasis, Dante. I’m safe here, with you. I was only asking for more time to finish what I started.”

His eyes lock with mine, turning ebony with endless fury, and he dips into my face. With his mouth to my ear, he speaks calmly, “He’s coming here. The man who lied to Gabriela and killed her is coming to the Oasis. You will not be here when he arrives, beija flor.” His thick tone breaks. “Do you get it? Do you understand why you are leaving now? No more bullshit. You. Aren’t. Welcome. Here.”

I swallow the hard lump in my throat, recalling the conversation I overheard in the medical facility. Dante agreed with Jackson, the onsite surgeon, that he would bring a male to the Oasis for questioning. A man who could give him answers and would never leave this rainforest alive. Which means he will eliminate the threat eventually. Then what will he do?

“And you’ll kill him, won’t you?” I point out, angling my cheek closer to his scruff. “You’ll get revenge for what he did so you can move on.”

Dante widens his stance and pulls away. He rolls his shoulders and twists his neck to ease the tension. Exhaling through his nose, he looks directly at me with a caustic grimace. “After I get the answers I need, I’ll blow his brains out and personally toss his carcass to the wild animals. I’ll reap the justice he deserves. His time here is terminal. It won’t be quick and easy. I’ll make the fucker suffer for what he did to her––to me. And that is the only promise I will ever make you. That, and sending you home. So please, put on some clothes.” He backs up, expression serious, eyes emotionless.

“Dante…” I whimper, oddly sounding like I could cry. And I could, but I won’t.

“Would you prefer to be locked in your old cabin for the remainder of your stay? If not, then I suggest you cover up immediately and accept my decision as final.”

My hands tremble at his smooth transition to hard-hearted. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you do,” he suddenly snaps. “No one understands.”

“I get it. You have to finish it once and for all, whatever the cost.” I reach for the black shorts on the bed. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

My heart compresses, making the blood slow to enter and leave it. The switch from brutal to caring is quickly eroding. His urge to kill and maim will ooze from his stony heart as time dwindles. Any loose threads of decency will eventually break under the grip of evil.

I tasted something I’ve never had before. Profound intimacy in a real life love affair. And now it's time to leave his torment behind.

Silently, I welcome the sentence he’s imposed. To return to my old life as a completely different person. As a woman who gave her heart and soul to the beautiful devil.

I rotate away and pull on the T-shirt. As I button up the shorts, I glance back to find an empty space where he once stood. The magnitude of his absence rushes through my body, feeding the sadness with a fatal injection of acceptance. It’s over.

Teams of animals buzz and chirp. The moist smell of natural life carries on the zephyr. I gaze to the horizon and patch up the internal cuts sliced from his harshness, then reposition my backbone for the strength needed to walk away with my head held high.

I’m going home to my sister Emmie where I’ll be safe. The staff at the lab will welcome me back with open arms, and I’ll restart my research, working long hours to block out the missing element. I’ll slot into an existence where I once belonged, misshapen like a broken jigsaw piece that will never be complete. But I’ll leave before I fall in love with him. Before it’s too late.

My bare soles pad over the bronze boards and follow the flow of a bowed terrace.

Dante lifts his head when he senses my quiet approach. He wears a huffy scowl that softens the closer I get. “My T-shirt looks good on you.” All the anger and violence has simmered, so the bold shade of green in his eyes spark with life.

I give him a death stare and twist the hem into a knot at my belly button, fitting it snugly around my waist. “Better than a slave’s shirt.”

He cocks an eyebrow and almost smirks. “An employee’s uniform.”

“I’m sure your staff would much rather wear a T-shirt.”

“I’ll be sure to ask their opinion the next time I email out a staff engagement survey.” His face is deadpan, and he rises from seated to drag a chair out from under the table. I hesitate, ruffling my curls as a distraction to our fizzing attraction. I’m nervous around him now, like a shy schoolgirl with a crush on her rogue science teacher.

Quickly gathering courage, I stroll onto an elevated platform that extends in a fenceless square overhanging willowy trees. If ever there was an opportunity to effortlessly kill me, it would be right now. In a snap of temper, he could push me over the edge and be done with our fiery rivalry. It feels like I’m walking on a cloud, high above the natural world. Unreal and extremely fitting for the man eyeing me with suspicion.

“Do you not like heights?” he asks. When I sit, he does the same. There’s an edginess about his movements as if he’s forcing pleasantries or fighting the impulse to pounce on me.

I shrug. “I don’t mind them. It's surreal sitting way up here. How did you build such an amazing treehouse? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He rests his elbows on the table, steeples his fingers and looks over the tips. “Money,” he replies with one blunt word.

Freshly chopped pineapple chunks, vibrant orange segments, and mango moons are jumbled in two bowls. Just as I wonder when he prepared breakfast, he speaks again. “The kitchen staff boxed up the fruit and sent it with your clothes. Please, have something to eat.”

It’s difficult to focus when his chest remains on display and disorderly locks of hair drape over his forehead. “That was thoughtful of them.” My forced smile receives a nod.

He lifts the French press and pours black coffee into an adjacent mug. “I have business to take care of later this afternoon. After you eat, I’ll escort you to the Oasis where you’ll stay with Salvador for the rest of the day. Then I’ll bring you back here myself in the evening.” His tone freezes over. “You’ll stay with me for tonight, and in the morning, my personal pilot will transport you to Brasilia and ensure you board the chartered jet. Understood?”

I pretend to act unaffected by his intentional coolness. “You don’t have to be so formal, Dante.” The coffee warms my lips, slowly sliding down my throat to heat my knotted stomach. Nothing about this situation is comfortable. “We were fucking a few hours ago. I’m going home, not turning into your mortal enemy.”

“We fucked.” He shrugs, but his pupils look as though they just breathed. “And now we don’t need to anymore. I don’t want any blurred lines.”

“Interesting.” My gaze dawdles on his bare hands. Those aggressive controlling hands that have owned me from the first night he carried me out of the jungle. “I’m looking forward to stepping on friendlier territory. To be with people I can hug and people I can really trust.”

He elevates his arm like a mechanical robot, bringing the mug to his mouth. “Good,” he replies before tasting the coffee. “And for the record, you can always trust me. No questions about it.”

I blink at his statement. “So, you wouldn’t throw me out of a helicopter again?”

He licks his lips before answering. “You landed on a safe platform. The fall wouldn’t have broken a fingernail, let alone kill you. And to answer your question, yes. I would do it again if your life was in danger.”

Gathering a wooden fork, I stab into the bowl and lift a morsel of pineapple wedged on the prongs. I’d rather not eat it, but I need something to do other than look at him. “Right.” I study its lemon appearance. “And you know you can trust me––without question.” Our gazes unite. “It’s such a shame I’ll never talk about the guy I met. I guess over time all of this will fade.” The sharp zing intensifies as I bite down. “I’ll forget all about you,” I say nonchalantly around the mouthful.

He stiffens. “That’s for the best.”

I’m purposely taunting him. Desperately hoping to squeeze out a reaction that shows me this isn’t easy for him either.

“Yes,” I agree, ignoring the acidic waves in my belly as I chew. Food is the last thing I want, but the only remedy to my waning energy. “I’ll be able to put this nightmare in a box and pretend it didn’t happen. That will be true freedom.” The coffee cup drops away from his tight lips, thudding the naturally carved table when he refuses to speak. “And then I’ll bury myself in work again. The only thing that really matters, right?” I shrug as if this conversation means nothing to me. “I’ll visit a different part of the rainforest next time. Or maybe I’ll try a different rainforest entirely.”

Temper flickers behind his eyes. “Hopefully the next time you wander into the wilderness, you’ll be better prepared.”

My brows hitch. “Prepared to meet someone like you? I doubt there are many madmen dotted about the Amazon with houses in the heavens and eyes like...” Precious gems. My thighs clench, stopping myself from describing his features with adoration.

“Your sister will be happy.” Dante lifts the corners of his lips to a faint smile.

My mind spins with a multitude of questions. How old was his sister when she was killed? Where were their parents? Rather than hit him with an interrogation, I look right at him. Now isn’t the right time. Not when we’re so close to the edge in more ways than one.

His shoulders aren’t tipped with frost anymore and peridot eyes glitter a shade deeper than evil. They project a flare of bitter sorrow, swirled with weighted regret. I’m having breakfast with Dante Valez. The man who believes waving goodbye is the only option. I guess he’s right. I’m not equipped to handle torture or possible gunfire––whatever he has planned for the guy he’s taken hostage. My life was protected by a cloak of mundane, and perhaps that’s how it should be.

“Emmie will be ecstatic. I guess I should thank you.” Our gazes tangle. “You saved me that night, Dante. If you hadn’t taken me in after the storm, I really would be dead. Not just on paper.” He smiles stiffly and takes another sip of coffee. “She’s such a good kid. The more I think about her, the more I miss her.”

An aggravated snarl echoes through the lower tier beneath our feet. It grows louder and more frantic. Pushing back in his chair, he rises and marches to the end of the platform. Earthy tones of green and cerulean blue surround his dominant stance. He towers over the rainforest like a magnetic god. My palms curl, feeling clammy at the sight of his boots tight to the edge without a safety barrier to stop him from plummeting to the understory.

The wildcat roar continues. “Can you see anything?” I ask, craning my neck.

He looks back over his shoulder. “No. We’re too far up. The bigger animals can’t pass under the electric wiring. Sounds like she’s pissed because breakfast is on the opposite side.” His lips curl to a fascinating smile.

That quirk of his lips. The transformation of sovereign to everyday mortal. It brightens his thoughtful features and makes him that bit more approachable. His torso twists to the landscape so the black panther inked onto his spine stretches out over the jungle. The heights are dizzying, but his physique is breathtaking.

“Can you please step away from the ledge? You’re making me nervous.”

Dante angles his torso to face me. “Why would you be nervous?”

“Obviously, I don’t want you to slip.”

He traps a smile, stifling his amusement. “I’m touched by your concern, beija flor.” A slight chuckle vibrates in his chest. It’s a lighthearted rumble that fizzes through me on a crusade to lighten all the animosity we’ve shared. Realizing I’m grinning, my cheeks pink to a heated shade of flustered. Silently, he offers me both of his hands. “Come here,” he orders.

“No way.”

“Trust me.”

“I…” My breath catches. “Why are you asking me to trust you now? After everything, Dante.” My tone hints at the worry bubbling in my gut. “It’s a big ask. You’re perched at the edge of a platform in the sky with a deadly drop below.”

“I told you before, you can trust me,” he repeats firmly, showing sincerity. “Now and forever. I give you my word.”

My knees weaken when I leave the table and skirt the open deck. One stumble and I’ll hit every branch on the way down to a grisly end. Keeping my eyes solely focused on his outward facing palms, I walk straight to him, putting my faith in him all over again. “This is crazy,” I mutter.

“Take my hands,” he says, meeting me a few steps away from the precarious edge.

And I do. I take a brave step closer and slot my hands into large waiting palms. The gentle contact makes me shiver, and I see the same reaction take hold of him, too. He stares down at my fingers, linking them with his, slowly, patiently, tenderly. Without kissing or fucking, our connection blooms with the simplest touch. He jerks me into his chest and spins us both around so my back is to the horizon. I gasp, reminiscent of free falling. The temperature feels the same. The breeze carries similar notes of organic earth and citrus, but the look in his eyes––it’s the polar opposite of that day. Where fury clouded his better judgement, an indecipherable flash lives in his unnerving stare. I swallow down a lump in my throat, feeling it settle uncomfortably in my stomach.

“Turn around,” he orders, his expression unrevealing.

Ripping my eyes away from his, I take my time to pivot, pressing my buttocks against the steely arousal in his shorts. A horrible pain nips my heart when I begin to understand what I’m involved in and that it’s finally over.

Together, we face the never-ending expanse in silence. Flyway strands of my air-dried hair dance in the peaceful wind. His bristled chin nuzzles against my temple from behind. Muscular arms envelope my waist, and my toes edge the wooden boards without fear. I place all my trust in his warm embrace and strengthen my stance so he knows it.

Fixed to the boards and each other, we soak in the tranquility, where creatures take first born breaths and others their final gasp. The apprehension of skydiving minus a parachute flits to the webbed matrix of rope merging out from the timber beneath our feet. Even if Dante pushed me for the second time, I’d land in a ballooning safety net.

His masculine energy vibrates through me. A galloping heart beats against my shoulder blade. Prismatic birds dip and dive in the thermal air currents. Leaves flutter, and branches yo-yo. Millions of years’ worth of natural habitat stretches far and wide. Diverse rubber and kapok trees, unique and tall, stand proudly before us. A crowd of support gathered in unison to worship the rightful king. The authoritarian whose body heat is an aphrodisiac. The one who emanates zesty scents that trigger my deepest desires.

“All this is yours?” I say, trying my best to ignore the cruel ache of lust.

“Not all of it. Only a small percentage of what you see here belongs to me. If I could buy it all, I’d keep every fucker out and protect every acre.” He sighs. “There’s a lot of things money can’t buy.”

“Such as?” I settle my hands on his forearms, cinching my waist, catching his contented exhale as it expands his lungs. I know he feels it also. A force of nature keeps us entwined. My tiny frame is neat against him. I’ve never felt this sense of belonging before, and the closeness is insanely good.

Warmth fades when his arms drop, and he sets a hand on my shoulder. “We should get going. I have a lot to sort out.”

Our short-lived truce ends abruptly. Without his strength holding me up, I sway a little, dazed by the emotions we both know exist, but can’t bring ourselves to talk about. What’s the point when we’ll never see each other again after tonight. He rolls his shoulders and latches onto my elbow.

“Finish your breakfast.” He drags me into the middle of the platform. “I’ll take a shower while you eat.” Green eyes shutter briefly, and then he slots a hand into his camo pocket. “We’ll stop off at the medical facility where Sal is waiting for you.”

Whatever exists in his mind is forcefully controlled when he takes a few measured breaths and then swivels around. He’s determined to exile our unspoken bond before we sink so deep that neither of us can come up for air.

If that’s his plan, I won’t argue. How can I? Everything inside me wants to give us a fighting chance, but that takes two. And Dante has shut down.

At least we have tonight, although I’m not certain how that will go. He wants me gone, and I’ll still be here until the next sunrise. Something tells me this evening won’t be easy.