Skyla Novea Abella Danger __hot__ -

She turned her phone over in her palm. No signal. Of course. The alley had been dead air since she arrived. Jamming tech wasn't cheap, but the men she was running from had bottomless pockets. They owned judges, cops, and at least two colonels she knew of. Skyla had no one. Just a fake ID, a dying phone battery, and a scar on her ribs from the last time she got too close to the truth.

The figure emerged from the rain—a man in a hoodie, hands in his pockets, head down. Too tall to be her contact. Too casual.

"I wish I was. He knows about the drive. He knows about you. And he's not sending thugs anymore." The man's eyes locked onto hers. "He's sending cleaners. The kind that make people disappear so completely, even their nightmares forget them." skyla novea abella danger

But Skyla Novea Abella wasn't running anymore.

Skyla released him and stepped back. Her hand trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of what she'd just heard. Victor Roque. Her father's killer. And he knew her name. She turned her phone over in her palm

"Who sent you?"

Her jaw tightened. "You expect me to believe that?" The alley had been dead air since she arrived

"Skyla Novea Abella," he said, not a question. "You're harder to find than my ex-wife's good intentions."