Chapter 9

Then, I heard another knock on the door—firm, deliberate. This time, I knew without a doubt. It was Kane. I opened the door, and there he stood, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorframe. He wore a dark turtleneck that clung to his sculpted torso, the fabric stretching over well-defined abs, paired with fitted jeans that did nothing to hide the raw power beneath. He looked devastatingly handsome, effortlessly so.