Mag-log inAva Clarke is twenty-one, bold, and fully aware of the rumors swirling around Professor Damon Wolfe-the Literature Department's most feared and desired professor. His classes are impossible to ace, and his gaze could undress you from across the room. Then she gets a C on an essay she knows deserved better. When she storms into his office demanding he explain himself, she expects a lecture. Not eyes that pin her in place like prey. "You want to be graded differently?" he asks. "Then earn it."
view moreNINA10:46PMI hummed softly as I padded toward our room with a mug of chamomile tea in hand, relishing the quiet for just a moment. The hallway was quiet and still, the kind of calm that only existed when Ezra was asleep and Kane hadn’t come up yet.I turned the corner—And stopped dead.There, halfway down the hallway near the guest room, Kendrick had Laila pinned gently against the wall, his lips on hers. Her hands were buried in his shirt, her body arching into his like this wasn’t the first time.I didn’t move. Couldn’t.What the hell?They didn’t see me at first. His head tilted slightly, deepening the kiss. Her fingers slipped into his hair like she knew every inch of him.Laila. My best friend.Kendrick. Kane's now closest friend.My throat tightened. Not from anger—but from the sheer weight of what the hell is going on and why didn’t I know?Then Laila opened her eyes.She froze, eyes locking with mine in pure panic.Kendrick turned, following her gaze, and when he saw me, he
NINAThe drive was calm and peaceful. Kane's hand rested over mine as we watched the city pass by, with golden sunlight stretching across the skyline. Ezra slept in his carrier behind us, and his soft, rhythmic breathing was the only sound we heard.“Kane,” I said for the third time, glancing sideways. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”His lips curved slightly. That smug look that always made my heart flutter. “You’ll see. We’re almost there.”I narrowed my eyes at him but let it go. The last few weeks had been a haze of diapers, midnight feedings, and deep, aching love for the tiny soul we brought into the world. I hadn’t had much time—or energy—to think about surprises.But when we turned down a quiet street I didn’t recognize, something shifted in the air.He slowed the car in front of a large gated property. The iron gates opened automatically as we approached, revealing a long stone-paved driveway flanked by blooming white rose bushes and tall, swaying cypress trees.
Epilogue 2: NINATwo Weeks LaterThe nursery was quiet, except for the soft creak of the rocking chair and the faint, rhythmic breaths of the baby sleeping in my arms.My son.Our son.He was bundled in a gray blanket, his little fists curled tight near his face, his mouth puckered in that serious expression he wore even while sleeping—just like his father.I brushed my thumb over his cheek, still marveling at the fact that he was real. That I was still here. I almost thought that this was all a dream and that I'd wake up to find myself back in that rundown apartment, alone once again.His name was Ezra. Kane picked it. Said it meant “helper,” but when I’d looked it up and found out it also meant “protector,” I knew. Knew it was perfect.Because Ezra was both of us. The fire and the fight. The light after the dark.The door creaked open behind me, and I didn’t have to look to know it was Kane. His footsteps were always heavier—but quieter now, like he’d learned how to walk softer arou
Epilogue 1: KANENine Months PregnantThe house was too quiet.Nina was curled on the couch, a thick knit blanket draped over her swollen belly. She had one hand resting there, thumb absently tracing little circles over the fabric of her shirt, while her other hand clutched a steaming mug of tea. Chamomile. Her favorite.I stood in the doorway, watching her.Nine months.Nine months since I carried her out of hell. Since I held her trembling body and promised I’d never let anyone hurt her again. And I hadn’t. Not once.She shifted, eyes catching mine. That soft, tired smile she gave me still hit like a punch to the chest.“Hey,” she said, voice rough with sleep and something warmer. “You’re staring.”“I do that sometimes,” I murmured, walking over. “Can’t help it.”She raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m huge?”“Because you’re mine,” I corrected, kneeling beside the couch. My hand slid beneath hers on her belly, and I felt the faintest kick against my palm.Our Son.“He's getting strong,”






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