Matteo
The security breach had been a feint—a surgical strike by a small Ironhide cell to test our response time. We’d neutralized them at the tree line, but Knox… the detective was gone. He’d vanished back into the treeline like a ghost the moment the shooting started, leaving that severed head and a hollow ache in my chest that tasted like failure.
I stormed back into my suite, my boots tracking mud and the copper scent of rogue blood onto the expensive rugs. My nerves were frayed, pulled tight like piano wire. Every instinct I had was screaming protect, claim, destroy.
The room was quiet, but the air was thick with steam.
The bathroom door was ajar, a soft glow of light spilling onto the hardwood. The sound of the shower had just cut off, replaced by the heavy, humid silence of risi
