The last man I trusted locked me in a room for two months.
So when I flagged down a stranger on a dark highway — barefoot, bleeding, running from the kind of men who don’t let you run — I wasn’t looking for a hero. I was looking for a head start.
Razor didn’t ask questions. He gave me his jacket, put me on his bike, and took me somewhere no one could reach me. Then he stayed. The most dangerous man I’d ever met, choosing gentle every time.
I never stood a chance.
I told myself not to trust it. I’d been wrong before and it had nearly killed me.
But Razor isn’t the danger you can’t see coming.
He’s the danger that stands between you and everything else, and god help anyone who tries to get through.
