The knock came before the sun had fully set.
Hard. Insistent. Demanding.
Emma froze. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the couch. Pain throbbed in her leg—fresh, raw, reminding her she wasn’t fully steady yet. Another knock, sharper this time, rattling the wood. Her chest tightened. Her pulse quickened.
She exhaled. Carefully, deliberately. Dragging one foot, then the other, she moved toward the door. Each step a small victory. The faint scrape of her shoes against the floor sounded impossibly loud in the quiet house.
And then—she opened it.
Dominic Sterling stood there. Towering. His coat draped over his shoulders, perfectly tailored, as lethal as the man wearing it. His gaze pierced her in the fading light, sharp and consuming.
“You don’t pick up calls.” His voice was low, contro
