SECOND SIN
“But you do. Every time.”
The first strike landed across Nathan’s shoulders—sharp, controlled, not full force but enough to steal his breath. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.
Noah delivered two more, measured, precise. Each one landed with the same quiet authority. When he finished he stepped in front, crouched again, and tilted Nathan’s chin up once more.
“Say thank you.”
Nathan’s voice broke on the words. “Thank you.”
Noah studied him for a long moment, then leaned close enough that his breath brushed Nathan’s ear. “Next time you’ll remember faster.”