The storm hadn’t ended when dawn broke.

Thunder still rolled low and heavy over the city, as though the sky itself knew war was coming.

Raven stood at the wide window of Jaxon’s chambers, watching the rain streak down the glass. Her reflection stared back at her hollow-eyed, wild-haired, her skin still marked with faint smears of blood she hadn’t been able to scrub clean. She looked like someone else. Someone dangerous.

Behind her, the room was alive with movement. Jaxon’s ...