Three men. One fucked up app. A latticework of lies and half-truths stitched together by obsession and bloody devotion.
This is the part where sane people run.
I don’t.
I stand in Kieran’s shirt, leaning against the kitchen island as I watch the guys float around their home, and feel something settle inside me instead.
Ownership.
Silas’s voice is still in my head.
Real things don’t power down cleanly.
I like that.
I like him.
All of them… in ways that feel dangerous precisely because they don’t blur together.
Jace is all cocky grins as he watches me, like he’s planning a hundred dirty ways to make me forget my name.
Kieran is patience woven into adoration, observing me like the world might tilt if I step wrong.
Silas...
Silas studies me like I’m a variable he never planned for and can’t stop calculating. It’s all heat and hunger, his attention landing like a challenge.
I don’t want him to stop.
But Silas scares me the most because I can’t scare him.
He stares at me like he knows my secrets and can pinpoint how I’ll fall… And he’s simply waiting to catch me at the bottom of some monumental cliff.
Big focus on thementalpart of that cliff.
Because I am falling.
That’s the problem.
Not running like my cyber-stalkers just CNC abducted me.
Not hiding like a sane person.
Falling.
Hard.
Right over the edge of that fucking monu-mentalcliff.
I’m pushing off the counter, about to say something reckless, when a decidedly digital sound rings through the loft.
It’s a soft chime that emanates from the wall panel near the door. Subtle. Expensive. The sort of sound you only hear when someone’s presence is assessed before they make it to their destination.
Kieran glances at the display in the kitchen, tapping at the screen. His jaw tightens, and he looks at us, irritation clear in his expression. “She’s here.”
Jace goes still. Not tense. Cold washes over him like dread creeping into his bones.
Silas doesn’t even turn his head from the wall of monitors before him. “Confirm.”
