PREVIEW

... w on the small, minimalist apartment. It was quiet—unnaturally so.

Asia Argento stirred on the futon laid out near the wall, blinking sleep from her eyes. The room was simple but strangely peaceful. No crosses. No church hymns. Just the steady hum of power that radiated from the one sitting across the room.

Leon.

He sat at the table, sipping tea, his katana resting nearby—perfectly balanced, like its master. His presence was suffocating, even when he said nothing.

...

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Holding his drunk wife in his arms, Andrew kicked the bedroom door open.

When he placed her in the bed, Rachael slowly opened her eyes. “Are we home?”

“Yes.” Taking her heels off, he covered her with the quilt. “I'll get you some warm water.” But before he could get up, she grabbed his hand.

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“I think I am falling for you, what should I do?”