Chapter 44

• The night had a sharpness to it, as though the air itself could cut. Kieran stood at the window of the penthouse, one hand pressed flat against the cold glass, his reflection a ghost haunting the dark cityscape below. Neon lights bled into the sky red, blue, white and yet none of it touched the ice lodged deep in his chest.
• Behind him, he heard the door open softly. He didn’t turn.
• “Kieran.” Isandro’s voice was quiet but carried the weight of something unspoken something fragile and dangerous all at once.