The Moretti penthouse was silent except for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass. Raven stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself, the glittering skyline doing nothing to calm her thoughts.

She could still hear the stranger’s voice, that slow promise: You don’t know me yet… but you will.

Behind her, the sound of a tumbler hitting crystal echoed softly. “You’re not sleeping,” Jaxon’s voice said, low and certain.

“Neither are you.”

He didn’t deny it. He walked ...