Tyler's POV
We walked down the dimly lit corridor, the sound of our footsteps echoing as I tried to keep up with Dante's confident stride. My heart was pounding in my chest, and every step felt heavier than the last, like I was walking into something I couldn't take back.
Finally, Dante stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. He glanced at me, a smirk playing on his lips. Without a word, he fished a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and swung it open.
The room was sleek, modern—a mix of dark tones and sharp angles. A king-sized bed sat in the center, the covers rumpled as if the place had seen more than its share of late-night guests. The air was thick with the faint scent of expensive cologne, and the dim lighting cast a seductive glow over everything.
Dante walked in first, and I followed, my senses alive in a way I didn't understand. The door clicked shut behind us, and I felt a strange sense of finality—like there was no turning back now.
