Morning light bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Carson’s penthouse, gilding the city in shades of gold and steel.

Justina stirred against the sheets, her body aching from the night before not just from his touch, but from the storm that had torn through her heart. Every kiss had felt like both a claim and a curse, every whisper like a chain fastening tighter around her throat.

She lay still, eyes half-closed, listening.

The apartment was too quiet.

The steady rhythm of Carson’s ...