Tristan’s POV
Tristan Montgomery sat in his dimly lit office, the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of his leather chair, the faint glow of the city’s skyline casting long shadows over the room. The scent of cigars lingered in the air, blending with the scent of whiskey he’d been nursing for the last hour. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the large window as if the lights outside held the answers to the mess that had become his life.
He hadn't seen Kaya in months, hadn't heard her voice, hadn't been able to touch her. And it was killing him. It had been the only way to protect her, the only way to keep her safe. The threats, the manipulations—they had forced him to walk away.
But deep down, Tristan wasn’t the type to give up.
