The room was too quiet and clean for the way Raven felt, like her insides were made of broken glass. The bandages around her ribs itched and burned every time she breathed, a raw reminder of how close things had come.
She sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the hem of her silk slip like it was the only thing holding her together. The dim lamplight painted her bruises in shades of blue and violet, ugly flowers blooming along her arms and thighs. Every mark whispered, you were careless, you were weak, you almost cost people their lives.
The door opened without a knock. Jaxon moved inside with the silent confidence of a man who never needed to announce himself. His usual tailored perfection was gone, his black shirt was still rumpled from the fight, his knuckles raw. There was no mask ton
