The moment Emily woke up, she knew everything had changed.
The air was thick with the scent of dust and rusted metal, the faint glow of the city filtering through the cracked windows of the abandoned warehouse. The night’s events still clung to her skin, memories flashing like gunfire.
Vincent Blackwood. The gala. The heist they were about to pull.
And—
James.
Emily sat up slowly, muscles stiff from too many sleepless nights and too much adrenaline.
But it wasn’t exhaustion keeping her awake now.
It was him.
The kiss.
The way James’s hands had gripped her waist, the heat of his mouth against hers, the way his breathing had been just as ragged as hers when they pulled apart.
And the way he had looked at her afterward—like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.
