Most people look at a corpse and see an ending. I see the truth. When Tyler Graham's body lands on my embalming table, the coroner calls it an overdose. But something doesn't add up. He deserved better than to be written off as another dead addict—and someone's going to pay for making him one. Then Hunter Song breaks into my funeral home looking for answers. Ex-ER nurse. Current addict. Grieving, furious, and beautiful in the kind of raw, unvarnished way that makes my instincts snarl. He thinks I'm an obstacle. He doesn't know he's already mine. I was sculpted into something elegant and lethal by the serial killer who raised me. Designer suits. Perfect smiles. A hunger for justice that wears a mask of civility. Hunter is all rough edges and ragged loyalty, a survivor the world left behind. Together, we're predators from opposite worlds—united by grief, fury, and the need to make someone bleed for what they've done. Tyler's killer thinks no one will come looking. That he can hide behind money, power, and intimidation tactics. He's about to learn what it means to be hunted. Hunter's addiction doesn't make him weak. It makes him desperate. And desperate men are dangerous. Almost as dangerous as the man who's decided to keep him.