ella

y heavy, suffocating in its intensity. He didn't back away; instead, he closed the final fraction of an inch between us. His large, ro

d, his voice a lethal caress that sent a shiver straight down

s hand, pressing his palm firmer against my skin. I let a breathless, dark thrill lace

mind was still searching for the trap, still convinced this was a desperate captive's *ploy*. But his pride as the ruler of Chi

frame toward the corner of the room where

ide with terror as she l

, his tone leaving no room fo

ing to every curve of my body like a second skin. It wasn't just a garment; it was a war banner. A brand. When I stepped out of the dressing r

ugh to choke on. When the polished brass doors slid open, the opulent

rs, roasted coffee, and old money hung in the air. In the shadows of the velvet sofas and marble pillars, Castillo *

of it all stoo

League privilege. He was currently leaning over the concierge desk, his face twisted into a mask of righteous

ythmic click of Damien's lea

ncern was ready on his handsome face, his lips parting

ame radiating absolute authority. And I was right beside him. His arm was wrapped tigh

see a broken, weeping captive, desperate for his salvation. Instead, he was staring at a woman drap

hed amusement of a queen observing a jester. The memory of the speakeasy cellar-the poison, the betray

e live electricity, a *Vendetta* waiting for a single spark. Julian's fists clenche