The master bedroom was a cavern of silver light and deep shadows, stripped of everything but the scent of sawdust and the low, rhythmic hum of the summer cicadas outside. The king-sized bed, white and pristine, felt like an altar in the center of the hollow room. As they moved toward it, the air between them grew heavy- thick with the kind of electric tension that only comes when the clock is ticking down to zero.
Victor was a man of absolute structures. His life was measured in strategic depth, tactical advantages, and a rigid, unyielding chain of command. He was used to being the center of gravity in every room he occupied, the one who directed the flow of energy and the fate of men. But as the emerald wrap dress pooled at Briar’s feet and his own uniform was discarded piece by piece-
