Rafael's eyes were wild.
Rain soaked through his shirt, plastering it to his chest, his gun still raised and smoking from the kill. Aurora couldn't move — not because she was afraid of him, but because she'd never seen him like this. Unhinged. Animal.
He stepped over the corpse like it was nothing.
Grabbed her arm.
Dragged her out of the warehouse and into the storm without a word.
She stumbled to keep up, half-naked, blouse torn open, feet slipping on wet concrete.
"Rafael—" she gasped.
"Not a word," he snapped.
The black car was still idling. He threw the door open and shoved her inside, slamming it behind them. The driver was gone — probably already dead.
The door clicked shut. Lock engaged. Silence.
His hands were shaking.
He stared at her, chest heaving, hair dripping. And then he did something terrifying.
He laughed.
Low. Broken. Cold.
"You almost let him touch you," he said, voice flat.
"He tricked me—"
