The world smelled like smoke and rain.

Carson’s penthouse was silent except for the faint hum of the city far below. Justina sat at the edge of the bed, her clothes still smelling faintly of ash, her hands trembling as she wrapped a bandage around Carson’s shoulder.

He didn’t flinch. He just watched her, those green-gray eyes tracking every movement she made, as if memorizing her touch before it disappeared.

“You should be resting,” she murmured.

He gave a half-smile that didn’t ...