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She doesn't remember what happened. But he does. Eden Monroe has spent her life running- from shadows in her past,from memories buried too deep to reach. But when she regresses into her younger self, trembling and calling out for a mother long gone, Cassian Devereaux knows one thing for certain- someone did this to her. And he's going to find out who. Cold. Calculating. Unstoppable. That's what the world knows Cassian as. But when it comes to Eden, he finds himself slipping - protecting her, wanting her, needing her in ways he doesn't understand. And when Adrian, a man with his own dark obsession, decides Eden belongs to him, Cassian realizes he isn't just fighting ghosts of her past. He's fighting for her future. And he will burn the world down before he lets anyone take her away.
Chapter 1 The moon is beautiful, isn't it
– Eden's POV
I'm late again. I know it the moment I step into the gallery. My heart pounds in my ears. My hands shake. I see the paint stain on my fingers-dark green, the color of rot.
"This is unacceptable," the gallery owner says, voice sharp. He's a big man in an expensive suit. He doesn't even look at me as he talks. He's too busy checking his watch. "You ruined a masterpiece worth half a million."
I swallow. "I'm sorry." My voice sounds small.
"Sorry doesn't fix this," he says. He holds up a gilded frame. Inside is an old painting of a lake at dawn. A thousand tiny cracks run across the surface. The varnish is smeared.
I should have asked for help. I should have taken a break. But I didn't.
I walk out without another word. My stomach twists with shame and fear. I need fresh air. I need to run.
I find a coffee shop on the next block. The bell over the door jingles as I enter. It smells like burnt sugar and warm milk. I order a latte to go, my hands still trembling.
The cup burns my palm. I hug it close as I step back into the street. It's colder than I thought. I pull my coat tighter.
I don't want to go home. Not yet.
One step. Two steps. My vision blurs. I don't know where I'm going. I just keep walking.
A man bumps into me. "Hey!" I snap, turning.
He's too close-his breath smells like cheap liquor. His shirt is stained, as if he-
I raise my knee without thinking. It connects with his body. He crumples. I run.
My hands grip the latte so hard it spills on my coat. I don't care. I just keep running.
I turn into an alley. Dark bricks on both sides. My heart races. I press my back against the wall and slide down until I sit.
I don't check my phone. I can't. I just breathe.
Then I hear another step.
I look up.
He stands there.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair that falls in his eyes. He wears a black coat. The moonlight catches the red stain on his sleeve. I can't see his face clearly-only the shadow.
My chest tightens.
He doesn't move. He just watches me. I can't tell if he's angry or curious. I swallow.
I'm supposed to be afraid. I should scream. I should run. But I don't.
My mind goes blank.
Finally, I say, "The moon is pretty, isn't it?"
He blinks, like he wasn't expecting words. His hand moves up, holding a gun.
I don't flinch. I don't scream. I just stare.
He freezes. His finger twitches. Then he lowers the gun.
"Look at the moon," I whisper. "It's cold tonight."
He doesn't answer. He just watches me.
I touch the sleeve of my coat. Still wet from the coffee. I sniff it. The smell is weird-like burnt sugar mixed with night air.
He steps closer, raising one eyebrow. I shove the latte cup at him.
"Wanna sip? I can't finish it."
His eyes go to the cup. He takes it without a word. He sips.
"It's sweet," he says.
I nod. "I like sweet things."
He looks at me, like I'm a puzzle. I don't know what to say next.
"I need to go home," I say after a moment.
He watches me for a beat. Then he steps back.
I turn and walk away before he can stop me.
But he's still there when I look back. He just stands in the alley.
I keep walking until I reach my building. The door buzzes open with my code. I step inside without looking back.
I leave the latte on the table in my hallway.
I don't feel relieved. I only feel... strange.
That night, I can't sleep. I keep seeing his shadowed face, the way he held the cup.
I know one thing for sure: I'm never this calm around strangers.
And there was nothing normal about that man.
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