“Just the terrace,” I said. “I need some air.”

He nodded, turning back to speak to a man who looked like a high-ranking police official.

I slipped through the heavy glass doors onto the stone balcony.

The terrace was long and empty, overlooking the dark expanse of Lake Michigan.

The cold wind hit my face, shocking my system.

I leaned against the stone railing, taking deep breaths of the chilly air.

The city skyline stretched out to my left, a grid of glittering yellow lights.

It looked beautiful from up here, far away from the dirt and the noise.

Then, I heard the sound of a shoe scraping against the stone.

I turned, expecting to see one of Dante’s guards.

Instead, a figure stepped out from behind a large stone pillar.

He was wearing a cheap, wrinkled suit that looked out of place among the luxury of the gala.

His hair was greasy and unwashed.

It was James.

My breath caught in my throat, and I took a step back, my heels hitting the stone wall.

“You look beautiful, Sophia,” he said, his voice raspy.