MasukPain was a remarkable thing. When it was bad enough, it stripped life down to just the essentials: breathing, moving, surviving. Everything else became secondary. The wound felt like it was on fire. Every bump in the road had been a complete agony. Every movement a punishment. And yet, as I sat alone inside the abandoned construction site, staring out over rusted steel beams and unfinished concrete, I barely noticed any of it. Because I wasn’t thinking about the bullet. I was thinking about that bastard, Hart Sullivan. The site had belonged to Dhark Holdings once. Years ago, before the project had been abandoned. Before budgets shifted and priorities changed. Now it sat forgotten at the edge of the city. Empty, silent… perfect. Nobody would ever think of coming here. Nobody except the man I was waiting for. I leaned back carefully against the wall. I immediately regretted that, as the movement sent a sharp stab of pain through my body. I ignored
The police station smelled like coffee, paperwork, and exhaustion. By the time I arrived, I already regretted being there. Not just because I was tired and the case was becoming impossibly draining. But because Eva Sterling was inside. And I knew exactly how draining she could be. Nathaniel met me outside the interview room. His expression said everything. “You’re going to enjoy this.” I snorted. “I doubt it.” “Oh, no.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You really will enjoy this.” That should have worried me. It did. A detective approached. “Miss Moreau.” He called. I turned. “It’s time.” I closed my eyes briefly, then nodded. “Let’s get this over with.” The interview room in this police station was smaller than I expected. Smaller than the one Dr. Ramon had been in. Gray walls, metal table and fluorescent lights. No glamour, no cameras, no adoring fans. Just more reality than Eva enjoyed. Eva sat on one side of the table. For
I had never wanted to argue with a sixty-year-old woman more in my life. Yet somehow, Margot Sinclair was making it very difficult not to. The video call filled the screen mounted on the wall across from my hospital bed. Margot sat upright against her pillows, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had just been told she was Hart Sullivan’s newest target. Beside her sat Professor Grant. Unlike his wife, he looked alarmed— as he should. Claire stood near the foot of my bed with her arms folded tightly across her chest. The detective assigned to Hart Sullivan’s case stood nearby. Nobody looked happy. Except Margot, who looked like she couldn’t have cared less. That was the problem. “I’ve already arranged additional security,” I said. My shoulder throbbed, my side ached— I ignored them. “There will be double the number of guards outside your room twenty-four hours a day.” Margot sighed dramatically. “You make it sound as though I’m under siege.”
I had never hated silence so much before. But silence was all I had now. Not the peaceful or comforting kind— this silence was suffocating. The kind that of silence that settled in a room after a disaster. The kind that came after everything started falling apart. I sat alone in my penthouse, staring at the television on the wall. Every channel was talking about the same thing: The lawsuit Lucian had filed against me. The press conference that had shaken the entire country. The endless stream of accusations he had thrown my way in front of the entire country. The television replayed everything; one clip after the another. It was endless, yet I couldn’t stop watching. I should have— God knew I should have. But I couldn’t. My fingers tightened around the remote as I watched the annoying reporter on the television screen. “Mr. Dhark, are you saying that the infertility diagnosis which circulated publicly almost a year ago belonged to Eva Sterling and no
I woke up to a tearing pain. It was more of a deep, burning ache spreading through my shoulder and chest, dragging me from darkness. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Everything felt distant and muted. Then it hit me— that all-too-familiar antiseptic smell. The white ceiling above me, the steady beeping. Hospital. The realization came slowly. I shuddered. Then it all came back to me— The parking lot. The gunshot. The glass exploding. Claire. My eyes snapped open. I remembered the car driving past us, the flash from the window. My body moving before my brain could even think. Then the darkness. I immediately tried to sit up— that turned out to be a terrible decision. Pain exploded through my right shoulder. “Mr. Dhark.” A nurse appeared instantly. “Don’t.” “I need—” “You need to stay in bed.” She said firmly. “I need to know where Claire is.” The words came out rougher and harsher than intended. The nurse blinked. Before s
Lucian was standing one moment, then stumbling the next. His hand pressed against his side, bright red spreading between his fingers. I couldn’t breathe. The world seemed to narrow into a single horrifying image. Lucian. Bleeding. Because of me. “Lucian!” My voice came out so hoarse, I barely even recognized it. I was moving before I realized it— running toward Lucian. I reached him just as his knees threatened to give out. His eyes found mine immediately, still focused. Still alert and impossibly calm. “Claire.” He called, although his voice was painfully strained. But at least his was alive. My hands shook as I grabbed his arm. “Oh my God.” Blood. There was so much blood. I pressed my hand over his, trying to stop the building. Trying to do something— anything. Around us, chaos erupted. People scattered across the sidewalk. Someone was crying. Car alarms blared in the distance. Security guards shouted into radios. And through all of i







