The welts on her skin were still singing a symphony of sensation when Manik’s phone buzzed, a harsh, insistent sound. He didn’t move from where he was buried inside her, his weight a delicious anchor. He simply reached for it, his eyes never leaving her blissful, tear-streaked face.

“Perfect timing,” he murmured, swiping the screen. He angled it so she could see. It wasn’t a video call. It was a secure messaging interface, all encrypted text and a single username: BLACKBOXX. A message glowed on the screen.