The garden path was empty when Magnolia stepped outside, but she knew she wasn't alone.
The scent gave him away cedarwood and ash, the same sharp undercurrent that always followed Sterling Rhodes like a warning. He didn't walk like other men. He didn't need to. He prowled confident, calculated, the way wolves do when they've stopped pretending to be men at all.
"You're later than I expected," she said without turning.
"I was letting the silence do its work," he replied from behind her.
She faced the fountain. The water had long stopped running. The marble wolves at its base had moss in their mouths, and time had dulled their eyes.
"Does it usually take threats to get what you want?" she asked.
Sterling's footsteps drew closer until he stood beside her.
"Threats are crude. I prefer pressure. The right kind applied long enough does wonders. See, Rhett always thought love could bend people. I know better. Desperation snaps them."
