LUTHER’S POV

The parking lot was a blur of chrome and sunlight. Engines revved, doors slammed, people moved, but all of it faded into static as I strode toward my car. My heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted out. I gripped the door handle harder than necessary, the leather of my gloves creaking. For a second, I had to steady myself, palm flat against the cold metal roof, just to keep from losing it right there.

Inhale. Exhale.

Again.

Because the alternative was snapping.

An ...