Dante's rage was a living, breathing thing.
It curled inside him like a storm, like fire, like something barely restrained.
"We have to go after her, now."
His voice was low, cold, merciless.
But Chase hesitated.
Sage hesitated.
Because they had seen what happened.
Because they had seen what Bella had become.
"Dante." Sage's voice was cautious.
"What if she's already gone?"
Dante's snarl shook the walls.
"She's not."
Because he would know.
Because even if the mate bond had been severed, shattered, burned to nothing—
He would always know.
Bella was alive.
And he was going to bring her back.
Even if he had to destroy everything in his way to do it.