Selene’s head pounded, her heartbeat heavy with tension and the sharp burn of betrayal. The metal bit into her wrists, cold and unforgiving, but she held steady, refusing to flinch. Opposite her, Darius’s head hung low, blood slipping down his jaw in thick, sticky streaks. But his eyes, when they opened, locked on hers like a lifeline.
“You okay?” he rasped.
“Been better.” Her voice was dry and acidic.
“Still mad at me?” he coughed, then winced.
She narrowed her eyes. “Try ‘furious.’ But I’m chained to a chair in a murder dungeon, so we can table it.”
A dark chuckle echoed through the space.
Lazarus stepped forward, silk suit unbuttoned, his gaze glittering like ice under flame. “Isn’t this romantic? The infamous Boss Lady and her traitorous bodyguard… reunited under better lighting.
