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Chapter 66: The Heart of Silence
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Chapter 68: The Sanctuary’s Keeper
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... , every street and stone washed clean, the air heavy with the promise of something unspoken. In his private chamber, Constantine was a man remade: every nerve raw, every sense sharpened by days of power, secrets, and the haunting ache of wanting what he’d denied himself for far too long.
He did not expect her. He should have, but he did not—he was standing at his table, poring over cryptic diagrams by lamplight, when he heard the faintest rustle of silk. He turned, and she was there—her ...
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