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“She’ll run,” Finn said. “But this time... I’ll be faster.”

He turned back to the edge of the roof, the wind curling around him like a whisper of her hair.

“She’s already mine,” he said softly, his fingers curling into fists at his sides, jaw tight as a wire. His eyes tracked the edge of the city skyline like a predator watching for movement.

“She knows it. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”

CHAPTER 3

KEIRA

The first thing Keira noticed was the sheets—soft, expensive, cool against her skin. A disorienting contrast to the fire curling in her stomach. Her pulse ticked unevenly in her throat, and for a moment, the unfamiliar calm around her felt like a trap disguised as comfort.

Her body tensed, heart slamming against her ribs as if to scream that something was wrong. Soft. Expensive. Probably Egyptian cotton. The second thing was the unmistakable scent of Finn O’Neill embedded in them—dark spice, masculine warmth, and something a little wild beneath. She sat up too fast and instantly regretted it. The room spun.

“Oh hell no.”

Memory came back in a rush. The alley—the shadows, the wild pulse of her heart, and the building across the street looming above. She couldn’t see Finn from where she was—just the strange mist curling up over the rooftop, the sudden flash of lightning, and the crack of thunder that didn’t belong to any storm. It lit up the sky for an instant, surreal and electric, and something primal inside her recoiled. She ducked deeper into the shadows, trying to make sense of what she was experiencing.Whatever had just happened, it wasn’t natural. And somehow she knew it had come from him.

Then… nothing. Minutes passed. She stayed crouched in the alley, hidden in the shadows, straining to hear more. Her breathing slowed, but her body remained tense, every nerve alert. The rooftop had gone quiet again; the mist dissipating into the night.

Then came faint voices—male—carried by the wind. Too muffled to understand. Calm, almost intimate in tone. Not the violent clash she’d expected after that unnatural display. She couldn’t make out who it was, but something in her gut twisted. Finn was up there, and someone was with him. That much she was sure of.

She stayed there, pulse ticking in her ears, nerves drawn taut as wire. Long enough for the quiet to stretch thin and brittle. Long enough for the fear to settle like weight on her chest.

Then came the silence. A beat later, the sound of a car door. She’d crept forward just enough to see Finn stepping into a parked car at the curb. Fully dressed and composed, he appeared as if he hadn’t just conjured lightning from the sky. She didn’t know how he’d gotten there so fast, and she didn’t want to think too hard about it. That heat, that pull—it had rooted her to the spot. Then, without thinking, she’d run. Not toward anything. Just away.

Away from everything she couldn’t explain. From the impossible swirl of mist and lightning she’d seen on the rooftop—unnatural, powerful, and undeniably tied to him. The way the lightning had forked above the building, searing the sky with eerie brilliance, had sent something screaming through her gut. Whatever happened up there wasn’t right—she knew it. But none of it seemed to matter when she remembered his mouth, his hands, the way his voice commanded her. Heat flushed beneath her skin. Panic rose sharp and sudden as she realizedthe truth: no matter how far she’d run the first time, her heart had never truly escaped him.

Her legs had carried her halfway down the block before everything tilted sideways and the pavement caught her.

And now—now she was in his bed.

Keira flung the covers off and scrambled to her feet, heart racing. She was still dressed, thank God, though someone had taken off her boots and put her to bed. She scanned the room—a bedroom that screamed restrained masculine luxury. Walnut furniture, clean lines, blackout curtains slightly ajar to let in muted morning light. Too perfect. Too calculated. Just like him.

“Keira.”

Her head snapped toward the voice. Finn stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame like he had all the time in the world. His dark shirt clung to him in all the wrong-right ways, the top buttons undone, the fabric stretching just slightly across his chest. His tattoos were barely visible beneath the open collar. His eyes raked over her, slow and unreadable.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like someone dropped me in a cage lined with thousand-thread-count sheets.”

He smiled, just a little. Bastard.

“We found you passed out on the sidewalk. We brought you back here…”

“Exactly where is ‘here?’” she asked.

“My home—a brownstone in Back Bay. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“Oh, so waking up in my ex-fiancé’s bed without my boots on is the good outcome?”

“A better outcome would have been you waking up naked and sated in my arms." His voice dipped into something edged—rough silk with heat beneath. “Still, I figured I’d let you wake up with your dignity intact. This time.”

Keira could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks. She could feel his words stirring her arousal a lot more than she wanted to admit.

“Why am I here, Finn?”