Chapter 127: She Is Not Herself
The second Bella's eyes met his, Dante knew.
This wasn't her.
Not fully.
Something else was looking at him.
Something wrong.
Bella sat up slowly, rolling her shoulders like she was adjusting to a new body.
Her lips curled into a slow, lazy smile.
"Well," she murmured, tilting her head. "This is new."
Dante didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
His wolf was too close to the surface, waiting for an excuse to tear through whatever had taken hold of her.
"Bella," he said, voice low, dangerous.
Her smirk widened.
"You say that like you know who I am."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"I do."
Bella sighed, stretching like a cat, her fingers trailing across the sheets.
"Then you already know, Dante."
She lifted her gaze to his—sharp, gleaming, empty.
"She's gone."
Dante lunged.
In a second, he had her pinned beneath him, his hands wrapped around her wrists, his breath heavy against her ear.
"You're lying."
Bella only grinned up at him, utterly unbothered.
"You don't want to hear the truth?"
Her voice was silk and venom.
"That she fought so hard, but in the end—she wasn't strong enough?"
Dante's wolf roared.
He tightened his grip on her wrists, his rage barely contained.
"I don't believe you."
Bella's blackened eyes gleamed.
"Then prove it."