PROLOGUE
David
They say a man becomes the monster he needed to survive.
They were right.
The night I slit the throat of the man who hurt my mother, I didnโt feel regret. I felt... peace. The world didnโt need another man like him. And I didnโt need forgiveness.
Since then, Iโve lived behind silk curtains and bulletproof glass. I wear thousand-pound suits, sip aged whiskey, and sleep with women whose names I forget before sunrise.
But nothing touched me.
Nothing... until her.
The drunk girl standing barefoot in the middle of the road.
Hair like velvet ink.
Mouth parted in a sleepy moan.
And a mole just above her lipโjust like my mother had.
It was never love.
It was remembrance.
And that was more dangerous.
