The morning sun sliced through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting long, sharp shadows across the kitchen island. Harper stood at the marble counter, a chef’s knife moving with mechanical, rhythmic precision through a bundle of fresh asparagus.

*Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.*

She had

The drawer slid open with a soft, expensive glide, the brass track perfectly oiled.

Harper knelt on the Persian rug of Silas’s private study, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The silence in the penthouse was absolute, thick and suffocating. She placed the bent hairpin on t

The dining room of the penthouse was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of taper candles. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city skyline glittered like a bed of crushed diamonds, completely ignorant of the monster residing above it.

Harper sat at the long mahogany table, wearing a backles