The message came at midnight. Raven was alone in Jaxon’s penthouse, curled on the velvet settee in nothing but his discarded button-up shirt. The fire had long since died in the hearth, the city beyond the windows glittering with indifferent light. Her phone buzzed once, no name, just a number she didn’t recognize.
She hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Then she tapped it. A single line of text appeared: We need to talk. Now. Don’t make me come find you.
Her heart seized. She didn’t need to ask who it was. Zane’s voice echoed in her head even before she accepted the call.
“I see you’re enjoying the suite,” came his smooth, cold voice. “Nice view, isn’t it? Almost as breathtaking as the one you got from Jaxon’s safe.”
Her breath hitched. “How did you...”
“I know everything, Rav
