Aurora stepped into the bright morning with a numbness she couldn't shake.
Her body still hummed with the memory of Rafael — the brutal thrusts, the way his hand had wrapped around her throat like he owned her soul. She could still feel him deep inside her, like a phantom echo she couldn't chase away.
But she didn't turn back.
She slid into the waiting black car. The driver gave her a curt nod and pulled away from the curb without a word.
The city blurred past in streaks of silver and sunlight, but something felt wrong.
Too quiet. Too fast.
She glanced into the rearview mirror. The driver's eyes weren't the usual dull gray of Rafael's staff.
These were cold. Calculating. And unfamiliar.
Her stomach dropped.
"This isn't the way to the airport," she said slowly.
No answer.
She leaned forward. "I asked you—"
He cut her off. "Sit back."
Her breath caught.
And then she saw it — the gun resting on the console beside him.
Every nerve in her body tensed.
