PROLOGUE 💥

The stench of expensive cologne, spilled liquor, and fresh copper filled the air.

Just five minutes ago, the grand lobby of the hotel was a playground for the elite. Now, it was a slaughterhouse.

Gunfire ripped through the hotel lobby.

Glass shattered. Blood sprayed. Screams drowned under bullets.

I was doing what I always do

killing without blinking—

Masked face. Gun raised. One shot—clean. Someone fell.

This wasn’t new to me.

Violence never was.

What was new… was her.

Gunfire ripped through the corridor.

And through the smoke, I saw her running blindly, clutching a piece of cloth tightly over her face.

Not away—from it.

Straight into me.

I snagged her wrist from behind, halting her momentum. The sudden jerk spun her around.

Her body slammed against my chest, to steady her, I locked my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against my body.

small gasp escaping her lips

In the collision, the cloth covering her face slipped and dropped to the floor.

Her fingers clenched my shirt like a sin.Breath shaking. Big eyes. Fear  shaking in her lashes.

I felt her pulse against my chest.

Blood on her wrist—not hers, I realized. Someone else’s.

She couldn’t see my face.

Only my eyes.

And my eyes,

They dragged over her—slow.

The soft white  top.

The skirt clinging where it shouldn’t.

Loose strands of hair stuck to her lips, eyes wide—not broken, just stunned.

Beautiful in the middle of violence.

My thumb tightened at her waist, claiming space.

“Easy,” I said quietly behind the mask, voice calm in a place where people were dying.

Another shot rang out.

Instinct took over.

I dragged her behind a pillar,

my body pressed flush against hers.

Too close.

Too dangerous.

My gun fired over her shoulder—one clean kill.

Then another.

Her chest rose and fell against mine. Fast. Uneven.

She tilted her face up, lips parted, eyes locked on mine like she was asking a question,

Then,

I leaned in, lips brushing her ear, voice dipped in danger.

“If you wanted my attention,” I whispered, hand firm on her waist, “you should’ve just asked… not walked into a war zone,”

"Butterscotch"

Her breath broke.

Not fear.

Something darker.

I tilted my head, eyes dragging over her once more, unapologetic.

“Wrong place to be sweet,” I added, gun lifting as I fired without looking, someone dropping behind her.

My gaze never left her face.

I leaned in just enough for danger to feel personal.

“But don’t worry,” I murmured.

“If I touch you like this…” my grip firm, protective, possessive,

“it means you’re not dying tonight.”

Her heartbeat raced against my chest.

And in that second—

between smoke, blood, gun fire

The story begins ✨