Chapter 8 - THE TRUCE
Dawn broke over the city skyline, painting the bruised clouds in shades of gold and violet. The rival faction had been decimated in the shootout, their power broken. Roman stood by the window, his arm in a sling, watching the sun rise. He turned to Harper, a soft, genuine smile softening the hard angles of his face. He handed her a leather folder—a passport, clean identities, and a trust fund in her brother's name. "You're free, little bird," he said softly. Harper looked at the papers, then at the man who had turned her life upside down. She tossed the folder onto the table. "I told you, I'm not flying away," she said, stepping into the space between them. "But from now on, we do things my way." Roman laughed, a warm, resonant sound, and pulled her close. The beast hadn't changed, but he had finally met his match.
