Masuk“Why didn’t you tell me?” He glances up, the green in his eyes gone dark in the morning shadow. “Would you have believed me?” I want to say yes, but we both know the answer. I sip my coffee, taste the lemon, and let the bitterness set in. There’s a comfort in the ritual: evidence, analysis, the s
For the first time in weeks, I am not afraid to let someone see me bleed. I thumb through the folder again, letting the evidence settle in the space between us. Every page is a tightrope: one wrong move and it’s all gone, the whole structure of the case and the story and the firm collapsing into a
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” I say, which is both truth and challenge. Lucas smiles, just the right side of self-deprecating. “Someone had to keep the ship afloat. You weren’t answering your phone.” He pushes the central folder toward me, its tab blank but heavy with implication. “I think I fou
The city is a pale bruise, all blue and yellowed white, the skyscrapers scrubbed clean by last night’s downpour. I walk the eight blocks to the office in a state of sensory hangover, every footfall reverberating up my shins and into the hollow spot just behind my sternum. Even the pigeons seem hungo
Evelyn’s eyes are steel, but there’s a flicker of something underneath. Not doubt, exactly. More like the recognition that I’m telling the truth and it scares her. She drums her nails—tap tap tap—then snaps the binder closed. “You’d better hope you’re right. Because if she’s not here, and Nathan tr
The only thing worse than holding down the fort is doing it from someone else’s throne. I’ve set up camp behind Mara Wolfe’s desk—a three-meter slab of matte black composite that reflects nothing, not even me. I can feel the residual heat of her palms in the armrest, the slight indentation in the le
The lock clicks behind me as I slip into the office. I am the wolf, even in tailored business attire. Even with it all wrapped up so tight. The edge of my existence cuts deep. The aftertaste of the night clings to my senses, a raw, metallic tang that I cannot swallow away. My steps falter, then re
There is a freedom in it, a temptation that digs claws deep into my resolve and leaves it ragged and bleeding. I have spent a lifetime restraining the urge, tightening the leash until it bites into my own flesh. But the promise of release is a seductive whisper, its breath warm against my neck, its
The crosswalk sign flashes red as I approach, an unwavering command to stop, to wait, to hold. I heed it, just this once. There is no harm in pausing when I know what lies ahead. The penthouse is a world apart from the one I now move through, but I carry pieces of it with me, fragments of luxury an
The lock clicks behind me, each sound an echoing note of freedom. I inhale the promise of the morning and the heavy shroud of Derek’s latest message unfurls in the back of my mind. I will not think about it, about him, until I must. The weight of obligation falls away as I step forward, closing the







