“Deviana Pramesti?”

The deep voice made Deviana, who had just closed her studio door, spin around.

A man in a black suit stood under the streetlight, his face half-hidden by the shadow of a hat. His gaze was sharp, threatening—like a blade aimed straight at her heart.

Deviana took a step back, her body rigid. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man walked closer with slow, measured steps. “I’m just a messenger. A message from someone who doesn’t want you poking around anymore.”

“A message?” Deviana lifted her chin, trying to hide her fear. “If you’re Leviana’s stooge, just say so! I’m not afraid of her.”

He gave...