Selene didn’t blink.
The video looped again.
Darius stood in a dimly lit hallway, jaw tight, voice low like venom: “I don’t care if she burns. As long as the job’s done.”
The screen froze on his face, stone cold. Unrecognizable.
Selene felt her stomach knot, a thousand sharp stabs of betrayal cutting through the lingering warmth of what they’d just done. The memory of his body moving inside her still clung to her skin, still pulsed deep between her thighs. But this? This burned deeper.
She threw the tablet across the room.
It hit the wall with a sickening crack and fell to the carpet in pieces.
Darius didn’t move.
He stood there, frozen, his hand still half-lifted like he’d thought about reaching for her, but didn’t. Couldn’t.
“Tell me that was edited,” Selene snapped, stalking to
