LOGINThe night Jasmine stole from a mysterious billionaire Alpha was supposed to be her biggest score.. instead, it became her darkest secret. Years later, she is a struggling single mother hiding a child no one can know about.. but the powerful stranger from that night has finally found her... and Tristan Winthrop does not forgive betrayal. She thought surviving the streets was hard but surviving the Alpha who claims she belongs to him may be impossible…
View MoreJasmine’s POVThe underground safe room was quiet and dark.Marc was tucked against my side, his small body warm beneath the blanket. His breathing was steady and even, and I pressed my face into his curls, breathing him in—the ordinary scent of a child who had asked only whether it would hurt and whether I would be nearby, then said okay and trusted the answers enough to sleep. I held him a little closer, careful not to wake him. The trick was underway above us. Down here, the only work that mattered was remaining the nearby I had promised.The city felt very far away through the walls.Above us, the operation was underway. People were moving through their assigned positions, communications were being monitored, and every part of the plan was unfolding according to the arrangements we had made around an eighth-revision map and a structural flaw Garth still did not know we held. There were decisions being taken and risks being managed, but none of them required me to leave this room.
Jasmine’s POVI sat on Marc’s bed, facing him.He had his hands resting in his lap, his attention fixed on me the way he fixed it on anything he had already decided deserved his full seriousness. Outside the door, the compound held the low steady life of people who still had a war to finish and a summit stage to reach.I had been thinking about this conversation for days, trying to find a way to explain what we needed to do without making it sound like something it was not. There was no soft version that stayed honest. There was no easy way to tell a six-year-old that we were going to make the people hunting him believe he was dead.So I told him the truth.I explained Garth’s plan in language that did not insult him, what Garth wanted from him, why the prophecy made Garth believe our son was the key to something he had spent years trying to achieve, and why forced taking would not work the way Garth thought it would. I did not recite fragments or archival origin records. I gave him t
Jasmine’s POVTristan was waiting when I came through the door, he took one look at my face and understood.I could see it in the way his expression settled—not the rigid assessment of the lobby on my first day, not the managed stillness of a CEO holding a boardroom, not even the fierce focus of the market corridor when his frequency changed and a path opened around him. He recognized the difference between someone who had won a fight and someone who had finally put something behind her. There was no unfinished business in my expression, no lingering need to turn back or make Marshall understand what he had lost. The click of the handcuffs was still small in my ears. The dampener was in Randall’s evidence bag. The clinic’s back room held only the residue of a sequence that had closed without fury.Tristan did not ask what happened.He did not tell me he was worried, remind me that he knew I could handle it, or offer any of the reassurances that might have misunderstood what this momen
Jasmine’s POVI stood over Marshall on the clinic floor.He was no longer fighting. His attempts to regain control had ended, and the dampener that had given him confidence a few minutes ago had done nothing to change the outcome. It still sat against his wrist like a promise that had failed in real time—the same way his rehearsed concern had failed at a door frame, the same way his park-bench performance had failed under Marc’s quiet observation, the same way the message he sent had failed the moment Wade flagged the syntax and we emptied a house before the Circle could use the address.I looked down at him.My hazel eyes held neither triumph nor mercy. I did not feel the need to remind him of what he did or explain what this moment meant. There was nothing left between us that required an explanation. Not the pregnancy he walked away from. Not the years I built alone. Not the foot in the door and the soft voice about missing Marc. Not the jacket pocket and the sold location and the












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