LOGINDevin’s POV
I stood in Eve's kitchen after she left for her appointment with Marguerite Chen and stared at the coffee maker for five full minutes without seeing it. She'd said she needed to do this alone. I understood that about her, the fierce independence that sometimes tipped into self-destruction. Push too hard and she'd pull away. So I let her go, and I cleaned her kitchen, and I checked my emails, and I pretended I wasn't counting every second until she walked back through that door. Mark called around eleven. "The investor meeting is rescheduled for next Thursday. Your grandfather's assistant left another message. He wants to know what family emergency required you to fly across the country." "Tell him I'll explain when I'm ready." "He won't accept that." "He doesn't have to accept it. He just has to live with it." I hung up and checked my phone for the fifth time in ten minutes. Nothing from Eve. I knew she was fine. She was in a meeting and would call when she was done. She called around noon, right when my pacing had reached the point where I was seriously considering manufacturing an excuse to show up at Marguerite Chen's office. Her name lit up the screen and I grabbed the phone before the second ring. "Eve. How did it go." "The clause is ironclad. There is no flexibility, I have thirty days to get married or Martin takes everything." She paused, and her voice tightened in that way it always did when she was holding something back. "Marguerite warned me to choose my next partner very carefully. Not all poison comes labeled, apparently." "Wise woman." "Terrifying woman. She hinted that my mother built other protections into the will but refused to explain them. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse." I leaned against the counter and stared at the skyline. "Did she give you anything useful." "She told me to find someone I trust. The rest was riddles." Another pause. "I'm going to walk around for a while. I will window shop to clear my head. I'll be back in a few hours." "Do you want me to join you?" "No. I need to think. I'll call you later." "Okay." I said it without hesitation. She was out there alone with the weight of a deadline pressing down on her shoulders, and I was here in her apartment, useless. Two hours passed quickly. I answered emails I didn't care about, I had Mark walk me through quarterly projections for the Singapore office and absorbed none of it. I made a sandwich I did not eat and checked my phone eighteen times. Eve had not texted, had not called, had not sent so much as a single emoji. By three o'clock the knot in my gut had blown into full anxiety. She wasn't answering my calls or reading my messages. What if she had found someone else? What if she had walked into a bar and struck up a conversation with some handsome stranger who had a nice smile and a willingness to marry an heiress in distress? What if she was sitting across from him right now, laughing at his jokes, telling him everything? I had waited seven years for this woman. I had stood in the background of her life and watched her date a finance bro who made her yawn and an architect who bored her to sleep and a human toothache named Ambrose who had absolutely no business being within a hundred feet of her. I had swallowed my feelings and kept my mouth shut and let her believe I was something I was not because it was the only way she would let me stay. This was my only chance to situate myself in her life firmly and I wasn’t going to let it slip through my fingers. I called Mark. "I need you to find her." "Find who? Miss Lovelace?" "Yes, she went to clear her head and she's been gone three hours. I need to know where she is." Mark's pause was pointed. "You want me to track her phone." "I want you to send me the location of her last transaction. She's been shopping so there must be a trail." "Sir." "Mark." "This won’t look good." "I'm aware of what it looks like. Do it anyway." He sighed, but I heard the click of his keyboard. "She used her credit card at a boutique on West Fifty-Second about forty minutes ago. There's a bar three blocks from there she's been to before. The one with the red awning. I can't guarantee she's there, but it's reasonable." "Thank you." "Sir, I hope you find her before you give yourself an ulcer." I grabbed my jacket. I didn't know if she was at that bar. I didn't know if she wanted to see me. But I couldn't sit in her apartment for one more minute waiting for my future to slip through my fingers while I did nothing. I had done nothing for seven years and I was done doing nothing. The cab ride was twenty minutes of mental torture. I rehearsed what I'd say if I found her. Something casual, something friendly. Not a confession that would send her running, and I wasn't ready to lose her. I paid the driver and stepped onto the sidewalk. The bar with the red awning was exactly where Mark had described it, a quiet little hole in the wall with fogged windows and a neon sign flickering in the afternoon gloom. I was halfway to the door when my phone rang with a call from Eve. "Hello." "Is this Devin?" A man's tired, professional voice. "This is Frank, bartender at The Red Awning. I've got a young lady here who says you're her friend. She's had a few too many and asked me to call you." My heart slammed against my ribs. "I'm already outside." I pushed through the door and scanned the dim interior. For a moment I saw nothing but scattered drinkers nursing their glasses. Then I saw her. Eve was perched on a stool near the back, her hair slightly disheveled and her cheeks flushed with alcohol. She was wearing the same elegant clothes from her appointment, but they were rumpled now, soft at the edges. She was staring into a glass of wine like it held the answers to every question she'd ever asked. On the stool next to her, a man was leaning in too close, and I watched with a surge of cold fury as she waved him off. "Not interested," she said, loud enough to carry. "Also, probably insane. So really, not a good investment." The man backed off. I crossed the room in four strides and reached her just as she turned, and her face lit up with a smile so bright and relieved it nearly knocked me backward.Eve's POV It was late June, and the garden was in full bloom. The boys were asleep in the nursery, exhausted after an afternoon of chasing Marlowe through the rose bushes. Priya had gone back to her cottage. The security team had settled into their posts. And Devin and I were lying on a blanket in the grass, staring up at the stars, the way we used to do on the roof of his building when we were younger and the world was simpler. "Do you ever think about how we got here?" I asked. He turned his head to look at me. "Every day." "I mean, really think about it. The marriage of convenience. The threats. The running. The years of pretending. All of it." "I think about it more than I should." I was quiet for a moment. Then I asked the question that had been living in the back of my mind for weeks, the one I had been circling for months without ever saying it out loud. "Do you regret it?" He was quiet for so long that I began to wonder if he had heard me. Then he turned onto his side
Devin's POV We took the boys to the estate in early spring. The house had been cleaned and repaired in the months since the network collapsed, its windows opened to the fresh air, its gardens restored to something resembling their old glory. The staff had returned, and the rooms were filled with flowers and the smell of bread baking in the kitchen. It was the first time we had been back since the night I found the tracker on Eve's car, and walking through the front door felt like stepping into a different lifetime. The boys were three months older now, crawling everywhere and pulling themselves up on the furniture and shrieking with delight every time they discovered something new. Sebastian had taken to chasing the estate cat, a fat gray creature named Marlowe that had adopted us the moment we arrived. Theodore preferred the garden, where he spent hours examining leaves and rocks and the occasional startled beetle. Priya visited every weekend. She had moved into the guest cottage
Eve's POV The trial of Marcus Kane lasted four days, and I attended every single one of them. I sat in the front row of the courtroom with Devin's hand wrapped around mine while the prosecution laid out the evidence piece by piece. The weapons shipments. The financial records. The testimony from the people he had recruited and threatened and used. Hannah Reyes flew in from the west coast to testify, her voice steady as she described the night she drugged Viktor Orlov's drink. Elena Vasquez appeared by video link from Paris, where she had settled into a small apartment overlooking the Seine. Even Thomas Grant, the analyst who had betrayed us, took the stand to describe the threats Kane had made against his family. Kane watched it all with that same cold, unbothered smile, as if the proceedings were a minor inconvenience rather than the end of a thirty-year reign of terror. When the verdict came back guilty on every count, he did not flinch. He simply turned his head and looked direc
Devin's POVThe gun in Marcus Kane's hand does not waver.He stands by the shattered window, silhouetted against the gray morning sky, and there is something almost relaxed about the way he holds himself. He is not afraid. He is not nervous. He is a man who has been preparing for this moment for years, and now that it has arrived, he intends to savor every second."Marcus Kane." The name feels foreign on my tongue, like a curse I have not yet learned to speak. "I have never heard of you.""I know. That was the point." His smile is cold and humorless, the smile of a man who has spent decades hiding in plain sight. "While you were chasing Croft and Pembrooke and Trent, I was building something new. Something better. Something that will outlast all of them.""You are the one who killed Volkov. The one on the roof.""I am." He tilts his head, studying me like a specimen under glass. "And I would have killed you too, if I had wanted to. But I did not want to. Not yet. I wanted you to see t
Eve's POV The next target is a man named Yuri Volkov, and he is the most dangerous of the three. Unlike Orlov, who hid behind intermediaries and dead drops, Volkov operates in the open. He owns a chain of nightclubs in Miami, and he uses them as fronts for the network's money laundering and weapons trafficking. He is careful, but he is also arrogant. He believes he is untouchable. We spend three days planning the operation. Marguerite provides the intelligence, Solomon assembles the team, and Mark works around the clock to trace Volkov's movements and identify his weaknesses. The weakness, it turns out, is his ego. "He hosts a private party every month at his flagship club," Marguerite says. "Only the wealthiest and most connected people in Miami are invited. He uses it to show off, to make deals, to remind everyone who is in charge. If we can get someone inside, we can get close to him." "Who do we send?" I ask. "That is the problem. It has to be someone he does not know, som
Devin's POV The call comes at six in the morning, and it is not good news. Solomon's voice is tight, controlled, but I can hear the anger underneath. "Orlov is dead." I sit up in the hotel bed, careful not to wake Eve. "What do you mean, dead?" "He was being transported to the secure facility in upstate New York. The convoy was ambushed on the highway. Three of my men are dead. Orlov was shot in the head before they could get him out of the van." "Who ambushed you?" "We do not know yet. The attackers were professional. They came out of nowhere, hit us hard, and disappeared before we could mount a defense. The only thing we found was this." He pauses. "A message. Carved into the side of the van. It said, 'You are not the only ones who can play this game.'" The words settle into my chest like a cold weight. The network knew. They knew we were coming. They knew we had Orlov. And they made sure he could not talk. "Where is Eve?" "She is still asleep. I have not told her y
Eve’s POV Scratch what I said about not being desperate. I was desperate enough but not shameless enough to ask Devin to marry me. I spent the rest of the day doing what any reasonable woman in my position would do. I walked into every boutique between the judge's office and the river, tried on
Eve’s POV The morning had already delivered one gut punch. I saw no reason to stop at a single blow. After Devin dropped the revelation about my father's debt to Martin, I sat at the breakfast table for a long time, staring at the cooling eggs and trying to rearrange the shattered pieces of my
Eve’s POV I woke to the smell of tea and the distant sound of someone rummaging through my kitchen cabinets. For a moment I just lay there, wrapped in the blanket Devin must have draped over me at some point during the night. The couch cushions were still warm and the pillow still smelled faint
Devin’s POV The moment Eve's voice cracked on the other end of the line, I knew that walking misdemeanor had finally done what I had been silently hoping he would do since the day Eve told me she was engaged. He had removed himself from her life in the most catastrophic way possible, and while I







