(Lena’s POV)

Midnight at Vance Tower wasn’t silent.

It breathed.

The city below never stopped—sirens in the distance, headlights gliding like veins of light, muffled music from a rooftop bar across the avenue. But up here, on the top floor, it felt like the building itself was awake, listening, waiting for someone to make a mistake.

I could hear my own heartbeat louder than the hum of Damian’s office lights. My fingers tapped against the stem of the untouched glass he’d poured ...