Rain slicked the rooftop now.
Not enough to cool them down.
Not enough to wash away the blood.
Nicholas wiped the splatter from Alina’s cheek with his thumb, then pulled her hard against him, heart still jackhammering. Her pulse matched it—thunder under satin skin.
One body still warm between them.
The other sniper gone.
The war closer than ever.
“You recognize that shot?” he asked, still holding her waist.
She nodded slowly, lips parted, breath shaky. “That wasn’t Dante’s style.”
“Who then?”
Her voice dropped, dangerous and broken.
“Levin.”
Flashback – Bangkok, 2016
Levin never wanted to own her.
He wanted to erase her.
The way he saw it, there was no space in the world for a woman like Alina—trained, brutal, smarter than every man she shared a mission with.
He called her
