The ride from Club Eden to the penthouse was quiet, the city stretching beneath them in a blur of wet asphalt and streetlights. Raven rested her head against the window, trying to will herself to sleep, but the tension coiled in her chest refused to loosen. Jaxon’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles pale in the dim light, his jaw set like iron. He didn’t speak; he didn’t need to. The air between them was heavy with unspoken fears.
By the time they reached the penthouse, the first hints of dawn were bleeding pale gold across the skyline. Jaxon moved through the apartment like a shadow, shedding his jacket and loosening his tie, the storm of his mind visible in the hard set of his shoulders. Raven followed him to the bedroom, where exhaustion finally claimed them both in silence
