The early hours of the morning were usually silent in the mansion, a heavy, expensive silence that felt like velvet pressed against the ears. But today, the silence was shattered.
Slap.
The sound was sharp, organic, and followed immediately by a guttural scream that sliced through my sleep. I bolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My first instinct was to reach for the other side of the bed, searching for the heat of Ash’s body, the solid reassurance of his presence.
The sheets were cold. He was gone.
Panic, cold and oily, slid down my throat. After the gunshots at the club, after the adrenaline-soaked ride home in the back of the SUV, I couldn't handle another threat. I scrambled out of bed, my feet hitting the marble floor with a sting. I didn't reach
