Chapter Four

Avery’s POV

Morning arrived the same way the night had ended gray, relentless, and too quiet.

I stayed in the guest room as long as pride allowed, listening to the rain and replaying the exact pressure of Kane’s hand at my throat until the memory itself felt like another form of contact. When I finally went downstairs the house smelled of coffee and clean wood. Kane was in the kitchen, already dressed, already composed. He glanced at me once, took in the shadows under my eyes, and said nothing about the study or the way I had trembled against the bookshelf.

The silence between us had thickened overnight....