When I woke up, the world was too still, like it had been dropped into amber.
Pain yanked my awareness back first—my neck, like it had been soaked in burning liquor and bitten down on by something sharp and steady. It was a hot, throbbing ache that told me exactly what had happened.
No.
No, no, no.
I shot upright.
The room was dim but luxurious—dark wood walls, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over an entire city of glittering lights.
I was wearing a shirt that wasn’t mine, hanging loose on my body. It smelled like expensive detergent and—
Whiskey.
His whiskey.
My chest tightened.
He’d temporarily marked me.
My hand flew to my neck. The skin there was still too hot, too sensitive. My fingers trembled.
“You woke up faster than I thought.”
His voice came from the couch.
Ryan was sitting there in a half-unbuttoned black shirt, turning a glass of whiskey in his hand like he’d just come back from a war and decided to unwind.
He lifted his gaze, and with the mark between us, his eyes looked even sharper, more sure.
“What did you do to me?” I demanded, voice low and tight.
“You know.” He swirled the glass lazily, watching the liquid lap at the sides. “Temporary mark. Light one. It’ll fade in a couple days.”
“Two days?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Your ‘light’ feels like something carved into my bones.”
“That’s why I went easy.” His tone didn’t even wobble. “If I wanted to, you wouldn’t even be able to stand right now.”
I clenched the sheets in my fists. “You forced this on me.”
That actually made him smile, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips.
“Forced?” he repeated. “You saved my life once and tried to end it tonight. I’d say whatever this is between us… isn’t exactly one-sided.”
“There is nothing between us.”
“Then explain something for me—” He straightened, pointing at my neck. “Why does your scent match the one from three years ago? The one that dragged me back from the edge when everything else was burning?”
My heart punched against my ribs.
“I was bleeding out in an explosion,” he said quietly, eyes never leaving my face. “Blood and smoke everywhere, and in the middle of it—this white peach scent. You used your jacket to press on my wound and dragged me out of the blast radius. That smell was the only thing that made me decide not to die.”
I swallowed hard, fingers digging into the sheets. “It was an accident.”
“Was it?” He walked toward me, each step heating the air with whiskey. “Then why has it stayed with me? Why do I smell you every time I have those nightmares?”
His hand lifted like he was going to touch me, but he stopped right before he did, knuckles hovering.
“Three years, Scarlett. I thought I made you up. Thought you were just a trick my brain pulled on me right before I died.” His voice dropped. “Then you show up tonight and I realize—no. It was you.”
“You want payback?” I asked, throat burning. “Or you want to repay me?”
“Which one do you want?”
“I want you far away from me.”
His jaw flexed. For a heartbeat, I thought he would snap.
Instead, he laughed quietly.
Not drunk, not unhinged. Completely lucid. That was worse.
“You’ve been running from me for three years,” he said, stopping beside the bed. “You really think I’m letting you walk out now?”
My pulse thudded painfully.
He set his glass down on the nightstand and sat at the edge of the mattress. Close enough to touch me.
He didn’t.
That control scared me more than if he had.
“Relax,” he said, voice low, almost gentle—if you ignored the steel underneath. “I’m not planning on using pheromones to break you. If I wanted that, I wouldn’t have stopped earlier.”
I froze.
Stopped.
He kept going. “I marked you so you wouldn’t run yourself into an early grave. You’re weak right now. I don’t want you dying on someone else’s floor.”
The words made something cold slide down my spine. “Someone else?”
He was quiet for a beat, then his tone dropped like a stone in dark water. “That explosion three years ago… wasn’t an accident.”
My breath stalled.
He studied me, eyes deep and hard. “The night you saved me, your organization had already decided to get rid of you.”
Blood roared in my ears.
“No.”
“Why not?” he shot back. “You’re a top-tier killer who suddenly went off-script and chose to save my life. You think they’d let a ‘liability’ like that walk away?”
My chest constricted.
“You’ve been hunted for three years, not because you’re easy to find—” his gaze sharpened, “—but because they want you dead. Because you chose to save me.”
The air felt stripped bare by the truth.
I stared at him, torn between shock and fury. “How do you know all this?”
He looked down at his hand, like he was fighting the urge to punch something—or maybe touch me. “Because I dug it up.”
“You investigated me?”
“You saved me.” His eyes lifted, fierce and unflinching. “Of course I needed to know who you were.”
My heart twisted painfully in my chest. “So what now? You want revenge? To repay a debt? Lock me up here like some kind of trophy?”
“No.”
He reached out and brushed his fingers against mine.
The touch was so careful it didn’t match his reputation at all.
“I need you,” he said, steady as a vow.
I yanked my hand back. “You’re just drunk on pheromones.”
He didn’t get angry. Didn’t even argue.
He just leaned closer, voice dropping to a slow, burning whisper.
“I’m not drunk on anything, Scarlett.”
“I’ve never been more clear.”
“I want you—not because you’re an Omega.” His fingers hovered near the fading mark. “But because you’re the Ghost.”
I stared at him.
He stood and turned his back to me, voice soft but carrying something heavy enough to crush.
“Your brain. Your calm. Your ruthlessness. Your nerve…” His mouth tipped into a faint, humorless smile. “Those are worth more than your scent a hundred times over.”
He glanced back, eyes sharp enough to cut straight through the dark.
“I don’t want to cage you.”
He paused.
“I want you on my side.”
My breath caught, stuck somewhere between a disbelieving laugh and something I didn’t want to name.
Ryan walked to the door. Before leaving, he looked back one last time.
“Tonight, rest.”
“Tomorrow—we talk cooperation.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
His last words hung in the room, scorching the air.
“From now on, you’re not a prisoner.”
“You’re the partner I chose.”