She’s torn between her pride and the man who shattered it. Loving him means risking everything — but walking away means losing the one heart that finally matched hers.Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the scar on his face, the stillness in his eyes, the way he’d said her name like he’d said it before. It wasn’t love — not yet. It was something older, more haunting — the quiet recognition that this man would be both her undoing and her awakening. She turned in bed, listening to the soft hum of the rain against her window, and whispered to herself: “A dangerous kind of gentle.” Because that’s what he was.