Shirley
The moonlight cast long, silver beams through my bedroom window, and I laid there—still, alert, torn.
The images of Dante and Asher trying to tear each other apart haunted me like fresh bruises. I could still hear Zara’s screams and Talon’s thunderous voice as he dragged Dante away. Could still see Asher’s eyes—cold and precise, like a scalpel—focused on Dante like he wanted to cut him apart.
I’d told them both to leave me alone. And I meant it.
I needed clarity. I needed answers from someone who wasn’t trying to own me.
Which was why I found myself at the back entrance of the biker bar before sunrise, slipping quietly past the sleeping town. Cassandra Blackwood usually kept to herself, healing slowly from whatever hell she’d survived. But if there was anyone who might give m
