She didn’t realize she was crying at first.

Alyssa stood in the middle of the penthouse living room, city lights bleeding through the glass walls like scattered embers. Her phone lay forgotten on the marble table, the screen dark after the last call ended. Another threat. Another warning. Another reminder that everything she touched turned into a battlefield.

Her chest felt tight, as if something invisible had wrapped around her ribs and pulled.

She pressed a hand there, breathing in slowly.

It didn’t help.

“You’re going to break if you keep doing that.”

Ethan’s voice came from behind her—quiet, careful, like he was approaching something wounded and unpredictable.

“I’m fine,”...