KNOX’S POV
I watch her walk into the elevator, and my wolf tracks every second of her descent like a map burned into my skull.
Nathaniel flanks her with all his bulk and scar tissue and lethal competence, and even after the elevator doors close and she vanishes, even after she’s gone beyond my line of sight, I can feel the phantom pull of her scent in the room.
It lingers in the air like a drug. Like possession. Like a problem I can’t solve by looking away.
Which is precisely why I need to look away.
I turn from the window and cross the penthouse, moving through the space she’s started to inhabit.
The floor-to-ceiling windows still hold the ghost of what we did at 4 AM. I can picture it too clearly: her palms flat against the glass, her breath fogging the view of the mountains, my ha
