Elena’s POV)
The nights were the worst.
When the house went quiet, when Jack’s soft breathing filled the hall, when the city outside blurred into distant horns and sirens—I was left with him. With Dax. With the way he touched me like I was oxygen and he’d been drowning his whole life.
And the worst part?
My body answered him.
Every. Single. Time.
That night, he didn’t ask. He never did.
He claimed.
The penthouse windows were nothing but a blur of city lights, and the man in front of me eclipsed them all. Dax’s hands were everywhere—on my throat, at my hips, tugging me into his storm like I had no right to resist. And I didn’t. God help me, I didn’t.
“Mine,” he growled into my ear, not a question, not even a demand. Just fact.
My skirt tore before I could pro
