The city’s early morning hum was a distant murmur behind the thick glass of the penthouse windows, where the first pale light spilled unevenly across the room. Raven sat on the edge of the bed, knees drawn close, hands clenched tight against trembling legs. The ache inside her wasn’t just exhaustion, it was the heavy weight of betrayal, fear, and a raw, gnawing guilt that no amount of control could hide.
She breathed shallowly, as if every inhale might shatter the fragile calm she was trying to hold. Her mind replayed the violent confrontation with Dante, the cold betrayal in his eyes, the way Jaxon had come to her rescue like a storm unleashed. She was still trembling, but it wasn’t just the aftershocks of that night. It was something deeper, a fracture in her soul she wasn’t sure would
