The city never slept, but tonight its hum felt different, edged with danger, like glass underfoot. Raven stood by the window of Jaxon’s penthouse, staring at the glittering skyline, trying to steady her hands. She hadn’t stopped shaking since morning, not because of fear, but because of guilt.
Every choice she’d made, every lie she’d told, had rippled outward. She’d sent that anonymous tip two nights ago about the port shipments, thinking it would expose Zane’s network. Now Jaxon was paying the price.
A soft click of the door announced him before she even turned. He carried danger the way other men carried a coat slung casually over his shoulders. His black suit was immaculate, but his shirt cuffs were rolled high, spattered with something dark.
“They’re dead,” Jaxon said simply, voice
