Chapter 145 Somewhere In New York

• Dante
• My wrists burn from twisting them against the zip cuffs, my ankles chafe from the same treatment around the legs of the chair, my shoulders ache from how far my arms have been pulled back, my faces throbs from how many times these goddamn bruisers have hit me, but all I can think about is El.
• I should be home in bed with her right now, fighting with whatever fiddly little fixtures they put on her wedding dress. She should be screaming my name. I should be screaming hers.