Juliette sat on the cold stone altar, bare legs pulled to her chest.
The old abadoned chapel smelled the same—wet stone, melted candle wax, and the ghost of their first f**k.
It was where Wolfe had broken her.
Claimed her.
Made her drip down his c**k while begging for more.
Now it felt like goodbye.
She’d stayed away for days.
Let Isla get in her head.
Let fear make her small.
But this place—the place where she became his Little Muse—called her back.
She didn’t hear him enter.
Didn’t know he’d followed her until his voice echoed through the stone.
“You’ve been hiding from me.”
Juliette froze.
Slowly turned.
Wolfe stepped out of the shadows, black coat soaked with rain, hair wild, eyes darker than she’d ever seen.
He looked like he hadn’t slept.
He looked like he’d kill for
