AUTHOR’S POV.

The ride back to the safe house was thick with tension.

The engine hummed beneath them, the sound too loud in the enclosed space, too sharp against the silence that pressed in from all sides. The city lights blurred past the windows, but none of them paid attention to the view.

Ace’s hands were locked around the steering wheel, his knuckles pale, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. Every turn of the wheel was precise, controlled…too controlled. The kind of control that came from barely restrained anger.

Lucian sat in the passenger seat, rigid, one elbow braced against the door, his fingers pressed hard against his temple. His foot bounced restlessly against the floor. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, but he wasn’t really seeing the road.

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