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The city glowed beneath them like a breathing organism—millions of lights blinking against the inky black sky, stretched endlessly beyond the penthouse windows. From this high up, it looked peaceful. Distant. As if the blood and betrayal that soaked its streets couldn’t possibly reach them here. But peace, Elena knew, was an illusion. She stood by the wall of glass, arms folded, her reflection a dark silhouette against the glittering skyline. She was dressed in black—fitted pants, silk blouse, and beneath it all, a holster against her ribcage. Her long hair was swept back into a tight braid, the same one she used to wear before her family’s deals, before assassinations, before she had fallen in love with the man she had once vowed to hate. Alessandro. She didn’t look at him, not yet. H
- Writer
