The inside of the car carried the scent of polished leather, cedarwood, costly cologne, and a sterile kind of cleanliness that felt almost unreal after the nightmare Elena had just escaped.

Beyond the tinted windows, the world smeared into streaks of gray and black. Rain struck the reinforced glass relentlessly, as though the storm itself was trying to break in.

Inside the vehicle, only two things existed: the low, powerful purr of the twelve-cylinder engine and the intimidating presence of the man seated beside her.

Matthew Carranza did not turn toward her. His eyes remained fixed on the road, his profile outlined by the dashboard’s dim blue light. Everything about him seemed carved from something unyielding—his sharp jaw, rain-darkened hair swept back from his face, and eyes that carried the cold authority of a man used to commanding empires.