The candlelight flickered against the marble countertops in Rose’s penthouse kitchen, shadows dancing across her tense face. She hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. Not since the message came through.
From Marcello: “He’s getting close. Lorenzo’s men were spotted at the port. We need to move.”
She stared at the screen until it dimmed. Then she locked it and tossed the phone onto the counter like it burned her. The anger simmering inside her threatened to spill over, but she kept it in check. For now.
The sharp click of heels echoed across the polished floor, followed by the soft hiss of the door opening. Cassian stepped inside, hair a mess, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loose around his neck. His eyes found her instantly, reading her energy like a map of chaos.
“You didn’t sleep.” His voice
