Viv:
The sun was rude this morning.
Golden and loud and too damn honest as it streamed through my blinds, casting sharp lines across my skin like it was trying to make a point.
I turned over in bed, the ache in my thighs a lingering reminder of everything I’d tried not to feel. Every touch. Every breath. Every time Knox whispered my name like it meant something to him.
He was gone.
Not in a bad way.
Not in the disappearing act I was used to. But in that calm, deliberate kind of way that said, “I’ll be back.”
He left a coffee on my nightstand. Still warm when I curled my fingers around it. He even remembered how I liked it—strong, no bullshit.
There was a note under the mug. Just a torn scrap of something he found.
“Don’t kill anyone before I get back. Especially not me. —K”
I sno
