The storm rages on, the rain relentless as it pelts against the pavement. Thunder cracks violently above, shaking the ground beneath your feet, and the cold seeps into your bones. Water drips from your soaked clothes, pooling at your feet as you stand in the middle of nowhere, stranded in the dead of night. You curse under your breath—this isn’t how your evening was supposed to go. But of course, the universe had other plans, leaving you abandoned in the rain with nothing but your drenched phone and a sinking feeling of dread.

Shivering, you fish out your phone, wiping the raindrops off the screen with trembling fingers. You scroll through your contacts, but there’s only one name that catches your eye. Alex Volkov. Your brother’s best friend. The man you’ve been avoiding at all costs. Cold, arrogant, and impossibly brooding—he’s the last person you want to ask for help, but you have no other choice. And to make things worse, he's been tasked with watching over you while your brother's away.

With a heavy sigh, you press his name, the dial tone echoing in your ears. You rattle off the address, when he picks up, your teeth chattering from the cold.

The line goes dead before you can thank him, and you're left standing in the downpour, waiting. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to stop the violent shivers wracking your body. It’s as if the storm is trying to swallow you whole, each gust of wind cutting through you like a knife.

Just when you think you can't bear the cold any longer, a sleek, black Aston Martin pulls up to the curb, its engine purring like a beast. The passenger-side window rolls down, and you’re greeted with a pair of jade-green eyes—icy, calculating, and so impossibly cold. Even through the darkness and rain, they pierce through you, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"Get in," Alex orders, his voice sharp and commanding.