Adriana woke to the sound of his heartbeat. Slow and steady, but heavy, as if each thud carried the weight of Damian Moretti’s sins. Her cheek rested against his chest, his arm locked around her even in sleep.
The room was silent. Too silent.
She breathed him in — the scent of smoke clinging to his shirt, the warmth of his skin against hers. It felt fragile, like a dream that would vanish the moment she moved. Her gaze drifted over the safehouse. Cracked walls. Water-stained ceiling. Light slipping through boarded windows. It wasn’t much, but last night, it had been enough.
Her fingers traced the bruise along his jaw. His eyes opened slowly, the predator’s sharpness flashing back before softening at the sight of her.
“You’re still here,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
“Where els
