He’s the ex-priest who traded prayers for violence. I’m the woman who survived the hit meant to erase me.
Nuala I’m the one who smiles politely, pours their drinks and pretends not to notice who they are. Until the place where I work turns into a bloodbath.
I survive on luck, instinct, and the kind of silence you learn in this world—the kind that keeps you breathing. But survival makes you a problem. Because I don’t walk away with blood on my dress.
I walk away with answers to questions the bosses are asking. Logan O’Neill finds me before the next bullet does.
He’s calm where others are cruel, quiet where others boast, until you realize silence is just another weapon. He doesn’t promise safety. He promises containment. Rules. Consequences.
A truth he expects me to surrender, whether I want to or not. I should hate him for the cage. I should fear him more than the men hunting me. With Logan, there is no rescue. Only judgment.
To survive, I’ll confess, or I’ll evolve. In our world, love isn’t order. It’s chaos.
