She shouldn’t know my name.
The thought slams into me as I stare down at her broken body, the flickering streetlight casting long shadows over the blood pooling beneath her.
This isn’t random.
This isn’t chance.
She knew exactly who I was before she ever set foot in that auction hall.
Lorenzo moves behind me, tense, waiting for an order. He’s expecting me to handle this the way I handle everything—with cold efficiency.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
I tighten my grip on her chin, forcing her dazed gaze to stay on me.
“Say it again,” I murmur.
A slow, shaky smile tugs at her lips.
“Do you believe in fate?”
Her voice is like smoke curling around a loaded gun.
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Soft. Dangerous.
I glance at the wreckage of her motorcycle. The impact should have killed her instantly.
It didn’t.
Which means she didn’t come here to die.
She came here to be found.
My jaw clenches. I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe in power. In control. In the certainty that everything in this world bends to those strong enough to claim it.
And yet, here she is.
Unplanned. Unexpected.
Bleeding out at my feet with my name on her lips.
Lorenzo shifts impatiently.
“She needs a hospital.”
“No.”
He stiffens.
“Cass—”
I shoot him a look, and he shuts the fuck up.
A hospital means questions. A hospital means records. And something about this woman tells me she’s not someone I want disappearing into the system before I get my answers.
I make my decision.
“Pick her up.”
Lorenzo hesitates for half a second.
Half a second too long.
I snap my fingers.
“Now.”
He obeys, lifting her carefully. She groans as her broken arm shifts, but she doesn’t cry out.
Good.
Pain doesn’t scare her.
That means she’s either very strong…
Or very fucking dangerous.
I slide into the backseat of my car as Lorenzo places her beside me. Her head lolls against the leather, eyes fluttering open just long enough to smirk.
Like she’s already won.
I lean in, close enough to smell the blood on her skin.
“Tell me your name.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she watches me.
Studying.
Measuring.
And then—
“Sienna.”
No last name.
No explanation.
Just a single name, dropped between us like the first stone in a landslide.
I don’t know it yet.
But she is the beginning of my ruin.