The street outside Aisha’s apartment was quiet under the dim glow of the streetlights.
A figure crouched in the shadows across the road, partially hidden behind a parked car, silent as a stalking cat.
Amara’s eyes were fixed on the window, watching every subtle movement inside with meticulous attention.
Her jealousy burned in her chest, hot and unyielding, coiling tighter with each moment she observed.
Her father—her father—was close to Aisha in a way that no one should ever be allowed to be.
She saw it clearly.
The way Callen leaned toward Aisha without touching, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, the way his gaze lingered on her even after she had stopped looking.
Protective.
Tender.
Intense.
Devoted.
Her stomach twisted.
The truth she had tried to deny,
