Author POV

The warehouse was quiet—too quiet for a place built on violence and secrets. Its walls were thick, cold, and industrial, but the silence inside felt heavier than concrete. Gray sat alone in the living area of the warehouse’s private suite, one hand wrapped around a wine glass, the other resting against his temple as though he were trying to rub away the pounding in his skull.

For the past two days, he had spoken very few words.

He had been living like a ghost.

A dangerous, ...