The morning after was neither soft nor quiet.
Logan Mason awoke to the unmistakable sound of metal clashing. Not the delicate clink of breakfast cutlery, but the sharp, rhythmic clang of something hard striking something harder—steel against steel. His eyes flicked open instantly.
Aurora Sage was already awake.
Not surprising.
He rolled out of bed, muscles sore from yesterday's set, and padded barefoot into the hallway. He paused when he heard it again—another sharp clang, a low grunt, and the unmistakable sound of control.
Aurora was training. In his private gym.
Of course she was.
He reached for a hoodie, dragging it over his bare chest, and descended the stairs without a word. The glass walls of the gym offered a clear view, and Logan stopped short the moment he caught sight of her.
