Morning came with blood still staining the hallway carpet.
I stood in Dante's bathroom, scrubbing the Russian's blood from under my fingernails, trying not to think about the fact that I'd possibly killed a man last night. The water ran red, then pink, then finally clear, but I kept washing anyway.
"Isabella." Dante's voice came from the doorway. "He's not dead. Concussion, broken jaw, but alive."
I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt… nothing. Just numb.
"Good," I said flatly, continuing to wash my already clean hands.
Dante moved behind me, gently taking my hands and turning off the water. "You're in shock. That's normal after your first fight."
"First fight?" I laughed, but it came out broken. "You mean first time I bashed someone's skull in with a bookend?"
"First time you defended your life." He wrapped his arms around me from behind, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "You did what you had to do to survive. There's no shame in that."
