Aurora didn't sleep that night. She lay awake long after Logan had disappeared into his study, the imprint of his touch still burning against her skin. The city lights glittered outside the glass like a thousand watchful eyes, and for the first time in years she felt like the world was staring back, waiting for her to slip.
She sat upright, knees drawn to her chest, the silence stretching into eternity. Every sound seemed amplified—the distant hum of cars below, the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, the echo of Logan's kiss still pulsing through her. She hated him. She wanted him. And worst of all, she feared what he might do to keep her tethered here.
By the time dawn painted faint streaks of gray across the horizon, her body ached from exhaustion, but her mind remained sharp. She had learned long ago that fatigue was dangerous; tired assassins made mistakes. And mistakes were fatal.
