The severed limbs hit the hardwood floor with a wet thud that seemed to echo through the silent apartment.
Kaine's enhanced senses kicked into overdrive, every instinct screaming that something was wrong.
Too quiet. Way too fucking quiet.
He dropped into a combat crouch, scanning the shadows for threats. The apartment felt like a tomb.
But this was definitely Gwen's place. Her leather jacket hung over the back of a chair, and that ridiculous abstract painting she'd bought at some gallery opening still dominated the far wall.
So where the hell was she?
His vision swept through the darkness, picking out details with crystal clarity.
The couch showed signs of recent occupation—cushions still compressed, a faint heat signature lingering where someone had been sitting. Gwen's scent hung in the air, mixed faintly with that of Marcus.
But where are they?
Kaine's enhanced vision scanned through the apartment like a predator. The bedroom was empty.
The bathroom, same.
