Novels by FLEGRA

*Alexander’s POV*Forty-six hours. Forty-six hours since her legs gave out on the cold linoleum of the hospital corridor. Forty-six hours since her mind retreated behind an impenetrable, silent wall to escape the agony of a world without her father.The master suite was completely shadowed and my wife was lying peacefully in it.Heavy charcoal drapes sealed out the gray Virginia daylight, trapping the low hum of the portable telemetry monitor against the high ceilings. The air smelled of cedar, rain, and the faint, sweet trace of vanilla lotion clinging to her skin.She looked impossibly small beneath the heavy duvet. Her soft curls were spread across the white pillows, damp at the temples from cold sweat. Her face was washed of all color, pale as fresh snow, with dark, purplish shadows bruised beneath her closed eyes.She had not spoken. She had not opened her eyes. When the human nervous system suffered a blow so catastrophic that the soul could not bear it, it shut down. A d

*Alexander’s POV*Her body went completely limp against my chest.The fight vanished from her limbs all at once, turning her into pure, fragile dead weight. Her forehead rested against the curve of my collarbone, her pale lips parted, her breathing shallow and ragged. I could feel her pain like it was mineMy hand moved instantly to the side of her throat. Her skin was clammy with cold sweat, but her carotid pulse beat beneath my fingertips,rapid, faint, and erratic from the sheer, violent shock to her nervous system. Her body had simply shut down to protect her from the pain. I did not hesitate, I slid my right arm beneath her knees and my left arm behind her shoulders, shifting my weight to stand. A jagged, blinding bolt of white-hot agony tore through my left ribs. Warm, heavy blood instantly flooded into the dark wool of my sweater. But I couldn't stopI rose from the cold hospital floor in one smooth, unyielding motion, pulling my wife tightly against my chest. Her head

*Grace’s POV*The heavy doors parted with a soft hiss.A group of medical staff walked out into the corridor. Dr. Keller,the man I recognized as the chief surgeon who was in charge of my father's treatment,led them, flanked by another doctor in dark scrubs and two nurses, their blue surgical caps still tied behind their heads. My breath stopped entirely. In every hospital I had ever trained in, the rule was unwritten but absolute: you never saw the entire resuscitation team step out together unless the monitor was already dark. Beside the wall, Richard did not move. He stood motionless, his head bent low toward the floor, successfully sinking my heart furtherDr. Keller took several slow, heavy steps toward us. His eyes were red-rimmed, carrying a look of deep, crushing exhaustion. The nurses stopped just behind him, their hands folded in front of their aprons, looking at me with a quiet, careful sympathy that made the ground beneath my boots feel paper-thin. They were lookin

*Grace’s POV*The words hung in the cold kitchen air like lead. *“He has already rushed him to the VIP medical unit.”*My breath hitched, catching in the center of my throat. My father had suffered blood pressure spikes before—that fragile cardiovascular system was the reason this entire marriage existed in the first place. But he had stabilized I knew he hadHe had spent nights in hospital beds before. He had always pulled through. *They caught it early,* I told myself fiercely, my mind latching onto every scrap of clinical logic I possessed. *He was at Richard’s estate. The response time was immediate.*"Grace." Alexander’s voice was low, cutting through the sudden static ringing in my ears. I looked down at my hands. My gloves were still stained with Alexander's blood. I ripped them off, tossed them into the waste bin, and turned on the faucet. I scrubbed the brown antiseptic and crimson from my skin with scalding water, watching the water swirl down the stainless steel d

*Grace’s POV*It was 2:14 in the morning, and sleep had never felt further away.It was not just the memory of the terrace keeping me awake. It was not just the ghost of Alexander’s mouth hovering an inch from mine, or the raw rasp of his voice when he snarled, *“Damn the contract.”*It was a cold, suffocating weight sitting directly over my lungs. A terrible, heavy intuition had settled into my gut the moment we left the gala,a dark, sinking dread that whispered something was going to happen. I stood barefoot on the cold tile of the fortress kitchen, wrapping both hands around a tall glass of ice water. The fortress was completely silent. The only illumination came from the amber glow beneath the range hood, casting long, sharp shadows across the white marble island. *Thud.*A dull, uneven impact rattled the reinforced steel door connecting the private motor pool to the kitchen corridor. I jumped, water sloshing over the rim of my glass. *Click. Whir.*The door swung inward,

*Alexander’s POV*The freezing rain fell in thick, blinding sheets over the industrial graveyard of the Anacostia rail yards.It drummed violently against the reinforced roof of the black tactical transport. Inside the cabinn, the only light came from the dim red glow of the weapons rack.I checked the chamber of my suppressed sidearm. The cold steel clicked into battery with a sharp, mechanical snap."Perimeter at the estate is completely locked down, Commander," Ethan’s voice came over the low-frequency link. "Miller just checked in from the master gate. Mrs. Reeves is asleep in the guest wing. She is guarded by six sentries."The mention of her name sent a dull, heavy shockwave straight through my sternum.*Mrs. Reeves.*She had looked at me in that emerald silk gown as if I were a ghost. She had looked at me as if I were a monster who had torn her world apart with cold, calculating hands.*How could you touch me like that?*Her voice refused to leave my head. It battered again