The city slept under a haze of sodium streetlights, but Raven lay wide-eyed in Jaxon’s penthouse, staring at the ceiling as though she could read her own future written there. The glass walls threw shifting reflections of the harbor below, black water swallowing the moonlight, cranes standing like skeletal sentinels. Beside her, Jaxon’s breathing was steady, but not peaceful. Even in sleep, he was never unguarded.
The phone on the nightstand buzzed once. A vibration, low and snake-like, barely audible over the hum of the heating vents.
Raven’s heart leapt into her throat. She slid carefully from the sheets, padding across the room in bare feet. The glow of the screen burned against the dark. Unknown Number.
She hesitated. Then answered.
“Little sin,” Zane’s voice purred down the line,
