Falling Hard
This time, Ezekiel didn’t stop her.
⸻
Outside on the balcony, Isla leaned on the railing, her tears finally falling as the cold air hit her cheeks.
In the shadows of the city, Ricafort moved like a viper. Ava lurked like a ghost. And Ezekiel—her husband, her love—was walking a razor’s edge she didn’t know how to follow.
Inside, Ezekiel sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the door she had closed behind her.
He picked up his phone and texted one name: Kurt.
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