The silence after Natalia’s confession was a knife-edge. Raven felt it bite into her skin, cold and merciless, as the woman sat trembling across from them in Jaxon’s office. The city lights bled through the windows, fractured shards of gold that painted Natalia’s pale face in fragile strokes. She clutched her hands in her lap, twisting the fabric of her dress as though she might wring the guilt out of herself.
“Speak,” Jaxon said at last, his tone a low growl that scraped through the room. He stood like a shadow at the edge of the desk, broad shoulders rigid, his entire body poised as though waiting to strike.
Natalia flinched. Her eyes darted to Raven, then back to Jaxon, as though she were a cornered bird choosing which predator might devour her slower. “You don’t understand what he di
