The weak light of a single bulb threw shadows across the new safehouse, a run-down loft above New Avalon’s waterfront warehouses. The air felt thick with dust and the low hum of the city below. Lena was curled against me on a worn mattress, her red-brown hair spread over my chest, her breath warm on my skin. My ribs ached from the chase at the gala, and my shoulder stung from a bullet wound, but her touch – gentle, constant – pushed it all away. The tracker we'd found in her equipment last night, Dorian's secret control, had shaken her up, and I was holding her tight, like she was the only thing keeping me together. Her hazel eyes met mine, vulnerable yet strong, and I kissed her, slowly and deeply, tasting salt and worry. The vault's important information, Sophia's meeting with the President, Dorian's games – they were all still out there, but right now, it was just us, stealing a moment in a world that felt like it was falling apart."I'm scared, Jax," she whispered, her voice crack