Maya sat alone in the dimly lit bar, a crystal glass resting between her fingers. The ice had already melted, diluting the amber liquid, but she hadn’t touched it in minutes. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirrored wall—calm, elegant, unreadable. No one would guess that behind her steady gaze, every thought was sharpened into a weapon.

The kiss replayed in her mind like a slow-motion scene she could not unsee.

Alyssa. Ethan. Heat. Panic. Truth.

Maya smiled.

“So that’s how it is,” she murmured, finally lifting the glass to her lips. The whiskey burned down her throat, grounding her. “So that’s where the cracks are.”

She had...