The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Adrian's penthouse, casting soft golden hues across the room. Alina stirred beneath the silk sheets, her body aching in places that reminded her of the night before—passion intertwined with rage, need wrapped in fear.
Adrian wasn’t beside her. The space where he’d lain was cool, his absence louder than words. She pulled the sheets around herself, feeling exposed in more ways than one. The events of the past few days hit her like a freight train—Jake’s betrayal, his death, Adrian’s darkness, and her own frighteningly deep attachment to him.
She sat up, letting her feet touch the cold marble floor, grounding herself as if it could pull her back to reality. But reality had changed.
Drawn by quiet murmurs, Alina followed the
