He had known it for years, had survived for years because of it, had found strength in the darkest pits of hell because of it, because of her.
Amara.
A decade ago, Dante had loved the girl she'd been. Now, he was awed by the woman she had become.
He had seen her, every time he saw her, growing into her skin, glowing with her scars, becoming a woman who would one day rule by his side.