The whiplash struck hard.
One moment, Gideon’s hand at her waist. That steady weight. The impossible warmth.
The next—this.
A rose on concrete.
A threat without a name.
Her hand drifted to her waist.
The same place he’d touched.
She still felt the imprint of his hand, craved the warmth it left behind.
But it wasn’t enough to thaw the chill that had sunk beneath her skin.
Because no matter how far she’d come, some shadows didn’t stay buried.
Some… waited.
And tonight, they’d followed her home.
He stayed hiddenbeneath the dark, just beyond her reach.
The night pressed in around him—cold, unyielding.
He didn’t feel it.
His focus tracked her every step.
Each movement. Each breath.
Reverence bleeding into hunger.
When her headlightsswept the curb, they carved her from the dark. A figure of light.
Untouchable for a single, breathless heartbeat.
Then the shadows swallowed her again.
His chest tightened.
Longing.
And something darker.
Tonight had been a mistake.
She had stood too close to Gideon Blackwell.
Had let him take space that didn’t belong to him.
Wrong.
The memory cut like glass—jagged, deliberate.
Arden wasn’t likethe others.
