The night outside Adrian’s penthouse window looked like it had been carved from glass and regret.
Snow fell in lazy spirals, the city pulsing below like a dying heart — faint, red, beautiful, breaking.
And in the middle of it stood him.
The man I thought I knew.
The man I loved in secret, even when I swore I didn’t believe in love.
The man who was both my savior and my biggest lie.
Adrian Cross — Rogue.
He didn’t move. Neither did I.
The silence between us had weight — heavy, alive, vibrating with all the things we didn’t say before it was too late to take them back.
My hands trembled, not from fear but from fury I could barely control.
“You let me hate you,” I said quietly, stepping closer. “You stood there, all polished and calm, watching me race while you—while he—risked every
