LOGINHer father sobbed. “We were terrible parents to you…we know we hurt you… please… forgive us.” Jade didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move. “No,” she said, low and final. “You don’t get forgiveness. You get the truth. And the truth is, you abandoned me. That guilt will eat you alive.” Power shifted. Jade stood untouched. Untouchable. She turned away. That was when she saw it. A white city bus crawled through the intersection, moving too slowly to be normal. Through a grimy rear window, a man stood near the back, his face swallowed by a black mask. He raised his arm. Light flashed on the gun. Aimed straight at her. Jade froze. Her body locked. Her mind stalled. The world narrowed to the dark mouth of the barrel. She couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move. She could only watch as the bus rolled past. Bang. Then impact. Something slammed into her back . Hard, brutal and knocking the air from her lungs. The bus vanished. The gun disappeared. Sky and asphalt
Jade ignored it. Then the scream ripped through the street. “Thief! Somebody help!” Her heart jumped. Before she could turn, a body slammed into her shoulder. Hard and fast. A man shot past her, hood low, a woman’s purse clenched in his fist. Another scream cut through the air. There was no time for questions. Jade didn’t think. She ran. White sneakers pounded the pavement, each strike sharp, rhythmic, like a countdown. The city blurred. Honking horns, startled shouts, faces whipping past. The thief zigzagged, panic driving his legs.Jade cut through, straight and unhesitant. Her hand dipped into her bag. Pepper spray. The thief glanced back. That half-second ended him. Jade closed the distance, unleashing a perfect arc of fire. He screamed, staggered, crashed. She was on him instantly, one strike to the solar plexus, another to the knee. Martial-arts muscle memory doing what words never could. The purse flew free. Jade snatched it. “Why?” she demanded
“You see sparks and assume they’re yours to keep. That’s not bonding. That’s entitlement dressed up as depth.” For the first time, something real cracked through his confidence. **** “You think I don’t know the difference?” Kain asked, voice lower now. “I don’t invest like this casually.” She stepped closer just enough for him to feel it, not enough to give him anything. “That’s exactly why this disgusts me,” she said flatly. “You talk about connection while living a life that already has a name on it. Men like that always want the thrill without the consequences.” Silence stretched. Tight. Loaded. “Say it clearly,” he said, controlled but edged. “What are you accusing me of?” Her chin lifted. Calm. Precise. “Of wanting me to be the secret that proves you still feel alive.” That one hit. His eyes darkened not with desire this time, but with something sharper. Concern. Frustration. A need he hadn’t planned for. “You’re wrong,” he said. “If I wanted a secret, I
The name sliced. “Tell me the truth, Jade.” “I’m not pregnant.” The word came out raw. She steadied herself. “They’re prescribed. For irregular periods. That’s it.” Silence followed. She straightened, pride like armor. “Please give it back. I have things to do. A life to get back to.” Kain weighed the bottle in his palm. “I will.” Relief sparked— “But you’ll see me tonight. Seven p.m. Mario will pick you up.” —and died. “No,” she said immediately. “I’m not seeing you.” **** “What do you think I see when I look at you?” she wondered bitterly. A mistake? A transaction? Something he could afford to misunderstand? “Why not?” he asked. She stepped forward for the bottle. Too close. Heat surged between them sudden, reckless. His body blocked hers without effort. The air thickened. Her breath betrayed her. “Yes,” slipped out before she could stop it. Kain smiled like a man closing a deal. “Remember the blind date?” he said softly. “When you made m
Jade blinked. Once. “…The cock?” Kain froze. Actually froze. He blinked, the regret immediate and spectacular. He’d meant to ease the tension, not detonate it. But the word was already airborne, unretractable, and now she was staring at him like he’d just confessed to a felony. Silence expanded. Judgment loomed. So he did what Kain Wolf always did when a situation went catastrophically sideways. He calculated. Committed. And doubled down. He leaned in again, unflinching. “The cock,” he repeated smoothly, tapping the hammer with two precise fingers. “This part. Grip it firmly. Confidently.” His gaze flicked to her eyes. “Fear ruins aim.” Her brow arched. Slowly. Dangerously. She studied him for a beat too long then nodded with alarming sincerity. “The cock,” she said thoughtfully, as if delivering a thesis, “requires confidence. Not hesitation.” Kain inhaled. Then promptly forgot how oxygen functioned. Fantastic. Here he was calculated, controlled,
Kain had pulled the truth out of her ,piece by piece. God. She had just dodged hell with Madeline. No. Focus. Breathe. Hold it together. He can’t know… not everything. It would only cause more trouble for her. He caught her wrist, pulling her close—protective, possessive, impossible to breathe around. “Easy, wifey… I’m sorry I stressed you out. It won’t happen again. I promise. Not in this way.” His thumb brushed her jaw, tucking her hair aside with maddening gentleness. “You’ve lost weight… those sleepless nights, you weren’t hiding them from me, were you?” His hand found hers, warm and steady, thumb tracing slow circles over her knuckles. “I haven’t slept a single night since you left. I was terrified… terrified of losing you. But I don’t care that you’re a Baudin. I don’t care about anyone or anything else. I choose you. Always. And I’ll fight for you, every single day, for as long as I live.” Her voice trembled. “You don’t have to pretend you care abo







