Sebastian's POV.
The Istanbul chill crept across the damp, dirty cobblestones, seeping under my clothes like a bad draft. The snow fell with a chaotic, blinding fury, blurring the outlines of the mosques and turning the Sultanahmet night into a trap of white mist.
I walked downhill, ignoring the ice beneath my leather boots, my hands buried in the pockets of my long coat. My jaw was so clenched that a dull, sharp pain shot through my right temple. I hadn't slept for over forty-eight hours, jumping from a private plane to an armored SUV, crossing a continent only to end up crashing head-on into the wooden door of an old antique shop that hadn't even flinched at the sight of my gun.
"You're nothing but a noisy foreigner," that old man, Aslan Bey, had told me, with a calmness that still ma
