The night after the attack felt wrong—too quiet, too heavy, like the world was holding its breath.

Alyssa stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of her apartment, watching rain smear the city lights into neon streaks. Her hands were trembling again. She hated it. She hated the weakness, hated the lingering sensation of being hunted.

She hated that the only person who saw her break tonight… was Ethan.

She heard the soft click of her door closing. Ethan stepped inside, shoulders tight, jaw locked, the rage in him barely contained. He hadn’t left since dragging the unconscious attackers away and making sure security handled them. He had refused to leave.

Now...