Raiden’s POV
Two Hours Ago
The house felt like a tomb the moment her taillights vanished into the fog.
I stood at the window of the sprawling, chaotic mess Nate called a workspace, watching the red glow of her car fade until the mist swallowed it whole.
Behind me, the room was alive with the hum of cooling fans and the frantic clicking of a keyboard, and Nate was hunched over his console, his screens flashing with jagged red lines that looked disturbingly like a cardiac arrest in progress.
“She’s spiking,” Nate muttered, his voice tight with a tension he rarely showed. “Her bio-electric field is fluctuating wildly. She’s not just tired, Raiden. She’s…unstable.”
“She’s scared,” I corrected, the beast in my chest prowling restlessly against my ribs. I could still smell her fear linger
