The hotel suite was silent, but silence didn't mean peace. Aurora Sage sat perched on the edge of the armchair, her body rigid, her fingers still stained faintly with adrenaline. Across from her, Logan Mason leaned back on the couch, one hand cradling a glass of whiskey, the other tapping rhythmically against his thigh as if the rhythm might keep him calm.
But calm was the last thing either of them felt.
Aurora's mind churned. That stranger's words hadn't faded—they had carved themselves into her like jagged glass. Logan is owning you. He'll destroy you the way Ashcroft did. She wanted to dismiss it as manipulation, but the echo lingered too long, too sharp, too precise.
And Logan's possessive kiss afterward had only twisted the knife deeper.
"Say something," Logan said suddenly, his voice cutting through the thick silence.
Aurora's eyes lifted, meeting his. "About what?"
