I didn’t flinch. I knew he was there before he spoke as the air pressure in the room had shifted, becoming heavier and charged with the scent of rain and violence.
Raiden was sitting in my swivel chair, spinning idly back and forth. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his skin, and his tattoos were glowing a dull, satisfied red, suggesting he had just come from the gym or the woods.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I said, walking over to the main console to begin typing furiously. “I believe in residual energy imprints. And get out of my chair. You’re sweating on the upholstery.”
Raiden stopped spinning and stood up, towering over the console, though he made no move to leave.
“How is she?” he asked. His voice was low, rumbling with that protective growl that had been vibrating in his ch
