{Elena’s pov}
The water had gone cold.
I didn’t move. My skin was pruned and chilled, but I welcomed the numbness. It was the only thing keeping me from feeling too much—too fast.
Too much about the man who had just carried me into this bath like I was something fragile… and left me like I was something broken.
Nico Moretti.
A name that felt like a brand burned into my bones.
Everything about him was confusing. One second he was cruel, commanding, arrogant. The next, he was gentle—almost reverent. Like touching me was something sacred, something dangerous.
Like he was at war with himself.
Maybe he was.
God knows I was.
I finally dragged myself out of the water and wrapped a towel around my body, shivering more from the thoughts than the cold. My reflection in the mirror caught my
