Julian was fast. He had always been fast.

As Lyra thrust the jagged shard of glass toward his jugular, his hand snapped out, catching her wrist in a vice-like grip. The momentum of her lunge carried them both forward, but Julian planted his feet, absorbing the impact like a brick wall. The sharp e

Three months. Ninety days of absolute, suffocating silence.

Lyra Vance sat before the sprawling expanse of the mixing console, her pale fingers resting lightly on the keys of the neural-link synthesizer. The underground studio, once her sacred sanctuary, had become her tomb. The platinum records o

The next morning, the studio door unlocked not with Julian’s heavy, measured tread, but with the frantic, chaotic clicking of stilettos.

Sienna Blake practically danced into the underground bunker, followed by two massive, rolling garment racks pushed by an exhausted-looking assistant. Sienna look