Greyson struck again. And again until the hands fell away. He wrapped his fingers around the Veyra’s head, breaking his neck in one motion, and the body beneath him went still.

His focus snapped back to Shadera, watching as she pointed a gun beneath the officer’s helmet and pulled the trigger. His eyes caught movement behind her as an injured officer rose to his knees, blood streaming out of his body in heavy rivers, and raised a gun at Shadera’s back.

“Down!” Greyson shouted, diving for his fallen weapon.

Shadera dropped instantly, the officer’s shot passing through the space where her head had been. Greyson’s fingers closed around his gun, rolling to his back as he slid across the floor toward her and fired a shot.

One. Two. Three rounds.

The officer’s chest blossomed red, bullets tearing through flesh. He stayed upright for only a second before collapsing onto his back with a heavy thud.

Silence fell, broken only by their harsh breathing. Greyson pushed himself to his feet, scanning the apartment for any remaining threats. Seven officers. All dead.

Shadera stood in the center of the carnage, blood spattered across her face and clothes, the stolen gun still gripped tightly in her hand. She looked savage and beautiful, her eyes wild, her chest heaving with exertion and adrenaline.

“Are there more?” she asked, eyes assessing.

“No,” Greyson answered, then paused, uncertain. “Maybe. I can’t be sure.”

Their eyes met across the bloodied floor, both drunk and disoriented from the attack, both aware of how close they’d come to death. Something shifted in the air between them, a current of energy that had nothing to do with danger and everything to do with survival, with being alive when they should be dead.

Shadera’s arm rose slowly, the gun now trained directly at Greyson’s chest. Her hand was steady despite the alcohol in her system.

“Drop it,” he snarled, but didn’t raise his own weapon in response.

“Why should I?” Her voice was dangerous. “Give me one reason not to put a bullet in you right now, complete my contract, and walk out that door.”

Greyson stepped toward her, unflinching as the gun tracked his movement. “Because you’d never make it past the first checkpoint.”

“Try again.”

Another step.

“Because if you kill me, my father will burn the Boundary to ash.”

“Not good enough.” The gun didn’t waver.

He took a final step, close enough now that the barrel of the gun pressed against his sternum. He could feel her breath on his face, see the pulse jumping in her throat, and his hands twitched at his sides. Need filled his veins at the masterpiece she was covered in their shared violence.

“If you shoot me,” he said, his voice dropping, “it will only make me want to fuck you.”

Her mouth parted, pupils dilating. She licked her lips, and the sight made his cock harden as she held the gun steady against his chest. Then, deliberately, she flicked off the safety.

“If you even think about it, I will kill you.”

Greyson grinned, the expression feral and hungry. “Then I’m already a dead man.”

Her breath hitched at his words and for a heartbeat, neither moved.

Then Shadera pulled the trigger.

The gun discharged with a silenced crack just as Greyson spun away, the bullet grazing his side, tearing through fabric and skin. Pain bloomed hot and sharp, but instead of falling back, he surged forward, his own gun firing instinctively. His bullet grazed her thigh, drawing a line of red across the black fabric of her pants.

“You shot me,” Shadera gasped, looking down at her leg in disbelief before raising her eyes to his face.

“You shot me first,” Greyson countered, his free hand pressing against the wound in his side then coming away red.

They stared at each other, both bleeding, both breathing hard, the air between them electric with something that had been building since the moment she’d entered his life.

One heartbeat passed. Then two.

Greyson wasn’t sure who moved first as they collided with the force of two storms meeting. His gun clattered to the floor as his hands found her waist, her back, her hair. Shadera’s weapon fell beside his as her fingers dug into his shoulders, his neck, pulling him down to her with desperate strength.

Their mouths crashed together, all teeth and tongues and fury. She bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and he groaned as he backed her against the counter. His body pinned hers as his hands tangled in her curls, pulling her head back to expose her throat. He bit at the tender skin there, drawing a gasp from her that sent fire through his veins.

This is a terrible fucking idea, a voice in the back of his mind warned. The worst possible idea.

His body didn’t care. His blood sang with the need to possess her, to claim her, to make her his in the most primal way possible. Her hands clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin through the torn fabric of his shirt. The pain only fueled his desire, a sharp counterpoint to the pleasure of her body against his.

This was wrong.

Every part of his mind screamed it as his body responded to hers with an intensity that bordered on violence.

Her hands tore at his shirt, nails raking across his chest, and he forgot why this was a bad idea as she pulled it over his head.

“Fuck,” Shadera breathed as his teeth scraped along her collarbone. “This doesn’t—this doesn’t change anything.”

“Shut up,” Greyson growled against her skin. His hands moved to her thighs, lifting her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her back arching as he pressed her harder against the fridge.

One hand found its way to her throat, fingers wrapping around the delicate column with careful pressure. He knew what she wanted, what she liked. And he would give her everything she needed. Her eyes fluttered at the contact, a small, helpless sound escaping her that undid him. The power of it—her vulnerability, her surrender—was intoxicating.

He carried her to the island, sweeping bottles and glasses to the floor with one arm. They shattered at his feet, adding to the destruction around them. He set her on the edge of the counter, his mouth never leaving hers, his hands pushing beneath her shirt to find the warm skin beneath.

She was fucking perfect—all lean muscle and soft curves, strength and femininity combined in a lethal package that fit against him like she’d been made for his hands. His fingers traced the outline of her breasts, brushing over her hard nipples, and the moan that vibrated through her chest nearly brought him to his knees.

And when she bit into his shoulder hard enough to mark, he thought he might lose his fucking mind.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He undid the button on her pants, then the zipper. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as his fingers slid under the fabric and groaned against her neck as they were greeted with her dripping arousal.

She was so fucking wet and every ounce of it was for him.

“Shit,” he breathed through his teeth as his fingers began to circle her clit and moan after moan spilled from her lungs.

It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever fucking heard.

He paused for one moment, bringing his lips back to hers, running his tongue over her bottom lip, then plunged two fingers inside of her. A cry erupted from Shadera’s throat as he pumped them in and out slowly, burying them deeper inside her with every thrust. Her body clung to him, pulling him deeper, and a groan vibrated out of his lungs at the feeling.

Everything blurred as she began to ride his hand, pushing her hips down onto him and rolling them.

He was going to fuck her. And he would not be gentle.

Greyson slid his mouth to her ear as his fingers sunk all the way inside of her. “I need you to tell me you want this. I need to hear you say it or tell me to stop right now. Because I won’t be soft with you. I’m going to make you fucking scream for me, Shadera.”