I understand patterns.
Cause and effect.
Order and chaos.
Most problems have solutions—if you ask the right questions.
Emotions? Not so much.
I don’t do chaos.
I don’t chase adrenaline or fall for women just because they bleed poetry and fire.
Then Stella Evans showed up—barely surviving the Dom Krovi, hiding sharp edges behind sharper eyes.
Now she’s in my house. In my orbit.
And no matter how many equations I run, I can’t figure her out.
She’s defiant. Complicated. Fractured in ways that don’t align with logic.
She doesn’t want saving. Doesn’t want softness.
But every time she pushes, I want to pull.
I’m the calm one. The analyst.
The man who keeps things controlled—mapped, measured, precise.
I fix what breaks.
But Stella isn’t something to fix—
She’s something I need to understand.
And maybe that’s the most dangerous thing of all.
Because while I’m deciphering her, the Dom Krovi is circling again.
And if they try to take her—
they’ll learn what happens when the quiet one stops thinking and starts burning.
