Aria’s POV
I press my forehead against the glass, and the whole city stares back at me like it’s laughing. Cars crawling, horns blaring, people walking free. And me? I’m locked in a box in the damn sky. A very expensive, shiny, cage.
How the hell do you escape a penthouse? You can’t just walk out. The elevator needs a keycard. The stairs are guarded. Windows don’t exactly open like a door, unless you want to splatter your brains across the pavement twenty floors down.
My palms sweat against the railing, but the thought of him his voice, his hands, the way he looks at me like I’m both a weapon and a toy makes me shove harder against the fear.
I hate him. God, I hate him. Not in the way I hated the cartel, not in the way I hated the men who bought me drinks just to show me off like some
