The Morreau estate was too quiet. That silence didn’t belong to luxury, it belonged to war.
Raven felt it the moment she stepped into the marbled foyer, her heels clicking too loudly against stone polished like ice. Jaxon didn’t take off his coat or pour himself a drink like he normally did when they returned home. He was walking too fast, his jaw a sharp line, eyes lit with something cold and dangerous.
He didn’t even glance at her as he tossed his keys onto the console table.
“Stay here,” he said. His voice was smooth, but it cut like glass.
“Jaxon?”
“Not this time.” He didn’t look back. “Whatever happens next, you don’t see it.”
Raven’s fingers curled, nails biting into her palms. The weight of what she’d learned earlier still sat heavy in her chest: that elegant woman with the pe
