The garden was silent.
Too silent.
Not even the wind dared move when Luca stepped forward, hands buried in his coat pockets, smile sharp as glass.
Alina didn’t blink.
She stood there in nothing but Nicholas’s oversized shirt and bare feet, her skin still marked from the hours-long war of lust she’d waged the night before—against her clone, against Nicholas, against herself.
“You’re trespassing,” she said coolly.
“I’m unveiling,” Luca replied.
Nicholas was already storming toward them from behind, gun drawn, voice a deadly growl.
“Say one more word, and I’ll splatter your teeth across my roses.”
But Luca didn’t even flinch.
He was watching Alina.
Only her.
Like she was the only person in the world who could make him bleed.
“You thought she was the only one,” he said, voice almo
