Elena Carter’s POV

The storm started just after nine.

Thunder rolled low and slow across the sky, followed by sheets of rain that pounded the city like war drums. Most of the building had already cleared out, the office deserted but for the occasional cleaning staff and, of course, the man who never seemed to sleep—Alexander Wolfe.

And me. His shadow. His assistant. His plaything—though we hadn’t yet put a name to it.

I was finishing up last-minute travel arrangements on his ...