Maddox is carved from something rougher, honed into something sharper. A man forced to become a predator to survive. It’s in the way he moves—controlled, deliberate, always calculating. It’s in the way his body holds tension, coiled like he’s always waiting for the next fight. Even his features, so identical to Asher’s in theory, have been molded into something else entirely. The same sharp cheekbones, the same strong jaw, but harder. Harsher. His blue eyes don’t just see, they assess, stripping me bare with a single look. His dark blond hair, just a little too long, gives him a casual
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