The screen was cold against his palm.

Another message chimed.

It was a second photo.

This one was taken from a lower angle, closer to the glass doors of the terrace.

In the reflection of the glass, I could see the faint outline of my own bedroom light.

*Turn off the light, Emily,* the text read. *It makes you too easy to see.*

A cold sweat broke out along the back of my neck.

“He’s watching us right now,” I said.

I reached for the lamp on the nightstand to shut it off.

Adrian grabbed my wrist.

His grip was firm, unyielding.

“Leave it on,” he commanded.

“Are you insane?” I gasped, trying to pull my hand back. “He has a weapon. He’s with the syndicate, Adrian. You don’t know what Marcus is capable of.”

“I know exactly what he is capable of,” Adrian said.

He let go of my wrist and walked toward the heavy drapes.

With a calm, deliberate motion, he pulled them shut, blocking the view of the courtyard.

The room suddenly felt much smaller, suffocatingly quiet.