The first thing Amelia noticed was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind—but the ominous, almost watchful kind that settled over her street like a predator biding its time. She stood at her apartment window in a hoodie and shorts, cradling a mug of lukewarm coffee, staring at the black SUV that had been parked across the street for the third day in a row.
It didn't belong.
And neither did the envelope waiting outside her door that morning.
No name. No return address. Just her—standing barefoot on cold tile, fingers trembling as she tore it open and found five glossy photos.
All of them taken from a distance.
All of them of her and Dominic.
Laughing. Kissing. Standing too close in the shadows.
The last one made her chest tighten. Her on the rooftop, arms around his neck. His hand beneath her dress.
Someone had been there. Watching.
She didn't call the cops. She didn't text Dominic either.
She burned the photos in her kitchen sink and left her apartment twenty minutes later, walking fast, not looking back.
She ended up at a diner two blocks away, tucked into a corner booth with a milkshake she didn't touch. She was halfway through pretending to read a menu when his voice—calm, deep, deadly—cut through her like ice.
"You didn't call me."
Amelia looked up. Dominic stood over her, black coat open, shirt half-buttoned, like he'd walked out of some noir film and hadn't bothered pretending he wasn't a storm in human form.
"I burned them," she said.
He slid into the booth across from her. "How many?"
"Five. Whoever took them was close."
His jaw tightened. "You were being followed. I had someone on you. He was supposed to keep his distance."
Her eyes snapped to his. "You had me followed?"
"Protected."
"Without telling me?"
His eyes darkened. "Would you have stayed still if I had?"
She hated that he was right.
But she hated more that he'd been watching her from the shadows—again.
"You don't get to decide what I can handle, Dominic."
He leaned in. "You're not ready for the things that are coming. That envelope? That was a warning. Zahir is in the city."
Her stomach twisted. "How do you know?"
He pulled out a small, scorched photograph from his coat. It showed a child—dark-haired, with eyes like ink. "This was left on my car windshield last night. Zahir only ever used this picture when marking a target."
"Is that…?"
"My sister," Dominic said. "She died ten years ago."
The air between them thickened like fog.
"I'm sorry," Amelia said quietly.
Dominic stared at her, unreadable. Then, without warning, he stood and grabbed her hand. "Come with me."
She almost resisted. Almost told him to slow down, explain, let her breathe.
But she followed him anyway.
Because breathing didn't feel safe anymore unless he was beside her.
The elevator ride to his penthouse was suffocating. Neither of them spoke.
But the moment the doors opened, it was like a dam burst.
"Don't ever keep secrets from me again," she snapped as he turned to face her.
He barely blinked. "I did it to protect you."
"You don't get to protect me. You're not God."
"I'm not. But I've seen what Zahir does to people. You don't get to act like you're ready when you're not."
That did it.
She shoved him—hard—both palms to his chest.
He barely staggered. But something inside him snapped.
In an instant, she was pinned to the wall, his hands on either side of her head, his breath hot on her face.
"Do you want the truth, Amelia? Do you want the whole, ugly, dangerous truth?"
"Yes," she whispered.
His mouth crushed hers.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was war.
She kissed him back with every bit of fury, confusion, and desire inside her. Their hands were frantic, clothes half-off before they made it to the bedroom. He lifted her onto the bed like she weighed nothing, and for the next hour, they didn't speak a word.
Only breath. Skin. Teeth. Heat.
It wasn't about love. Not entirely.
It was about need. About survival. About the two of them clawing at each other like the world outside would kill them if they stopped.
Later, in the stillness, she lay beside him staring at the ceiling, breathless.
Dominic's voice was rough. "I'm going to do everything I can to keep you alive."
She turned to him. "Even if it means breaking me first?"
He didn't answer.
But the look in his eyes said enough.
He'd already started.