She wasn’t the only one

Lila had never slept well in silence. Silence meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering.

So she kept every light in Ares’ penthouse glowing, warm, expensive, golden like she could burn the truth out of the air if she tried hard enough.

The flash drive was gone. No—destroyed.

She had smashed it into the marble floor with Ares’ own dumbbell, shards scattering like broken teeth. Then she swept the pieces into a crystal bowl, poured lighter fluid from one of ...