Perfect.

That was the word Nash tasted as he stood by the window. Not because of the forest stretching endlessly around the Praedators’ mansion—he didn’t give a damn about trees—but because she wouldn’t leave his head.

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The thought alone set something ugly in his chest thrumming, made his knuckles itch to split open skin. It was infuriating. Even when Caden ran his mouth nonstop, even in the middle of a fight, even when he tried to sink himself into something sharp and cruel—there she was.

Like a ragdoll tossed into his brain. Fragile. Beautiful. Breakable.

He remembered the first time he caught her dancing in the dark, every step too elegant for this rotten place. How she froze when she realized he was watching, eyes wide, all fight and fire when she snapped at him. That should’ve bored him. Instead, it made his pulse quicken.

The laugh that slipped out nearly drove him insane. He never laughed. Not like that. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Snarling, Nash grabbed his keys. If anything could scrape this poison out of his system, it was speed. Cigarette lit, smoke curling through his lips, he tore down the road like the devil himself was on his heels. Emotion. He hated the word. Since the diagnosis as a kid—ASPD, their neat little label—he’d learned early emotions weren’t for him. They were noise. Side effects.

But her? She broke the math of his life. He hated her for it. Hated her enough to want her closer.

“Ey, Astor. You trying to fuck the asphalt, the way you’re grinding that engine?” Caden’s voice crackled through the comms. Nash had forgotten to turn the thing off after his last race with Zach.

“Shut the fuck up, Cade.” Nash’s voice was flat, sharp. He pressed harder on the gas.

“Touchy.” A chuckle. “What’s got your panties in a twist? Don’t tell me it’s about your little ballerina.”

Nash’s lips curved, but there was no humor in it. “Careful, Cade. I’d hate for you to find out what those legs of your girl could really do wrapped around me.”

There was a pause. The line cooled, but not before Caden growled back: “Stay the fuck away from her.” Then the comm cut dead.

Finally, silence.

Except not quite. Because as the rain hammered down and the streets blurred beneath him, Nash spotted a shape on the sidewalk. Small, drenched, arms clutched around herself like she was holding her own pieces together.

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His heart did that traitorous stutter again. For half a second, he considered flying right past, letting the wolves chew her bones. It would be clean, simple, exactly what he was supposed to do.

But his foot shifted. Tires screamed as the car braked, rolling into a slow, predatory crawl beside her.

The window slid down. Smoke and rain tangled in the air as he leaned an elbow on the wheel.

“Well, well.” His smile was all teeth. “If it isn’t my little swan, wandering straight into the storm.”

Her eyes cut toward him, sharp even under dripping lashes. Perfect.

“Get in,” he drawled. “Before I forget I’m in a generous mood.”