Mag-log inTiffany's POV I had two choices, and neither one of them ended well. I could let Scars open that door, see my face, and destroy everything I had worked so hard to protect. My identity, my cover, Lucas’s cover, and the entire operation would be exposed before we even had the chance to finish what we started. Or I could drop the tray, make it look like a careless mistake, and pray Jacquelline did not fire me on my first day. Getting fired would ruin the current mission, but it was something we could recover from. We could find another way inside and rebuild the plan. Being exposed was different. Once Scars knew who I was, there would be no recovering from it. Everything we had worked for would be over. So I made my choice. The moment the door handle started to turn, I loosened my grip. The tray slipped from my hands before the door could fully open. The crash exploded through the hallway, far too loud for a simple accident. The coffees spilled first, followed by the plates and
Tiffany’s POV Mrs. Bennett walked ahead of me without saying a word. Her heels clicked against the floor, her posture just as perfect as before. I studied her from behind. She looked like the type of person who had worked in this house for decades. Someone who knew every secret hidden behind every door. That made her just as important to watch as Jacquelline herself. People like Mrs. Bennett didn’t stay in a place like this by accident. They stayed because they were trusted. Which meant I needed to be careful around her. We reached another staircase leading to the third floor, and the difference was obvious the second we stepped onto it. The staff became fewer, the house became quieter, and the two guards stationed near the hallway entrance made one thing clear: this part of the house wasn’t meant for everyone. Mrs. Bennett stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. “This will be your room.” She unlocked it and pushed the door open. The room was far nicer than I
Tiffany's POV The flight felt like a blur after that. A few hours later, we were sitting in the back of a cab, driving through the familiar, rain-soaked streets of Riverton. My hometown. The place I swore I would never come back to. I slipped one earbud into my right ear and rested my head against the cold window. Then I pressed play on my phone, letting Djo’s “End of Beginning” fill the silence. The song had a strange way of making you think about places you used to belong to. Places you missed. Places you thought you had already moved on from. But being back here brought a heaviness I wasn’t prepared for. Every familiar corner, every passing building, carried memories I had tried my best not to think about. I focused on the music instead, letting it drown out the voices around me and give my mind something else to hold on to. I needed that. Because Riverton wasn’t just the city where I grew up. It was the city that remembered every version of me I had tried so hard to f
Lucas’s POV My eyes cracked open to the low hum of machines and the faint sting of antiseptic lingering in the air. My shoulder throbbed with a deep, burning pain, a brutal reminder of where the bullet had gone through. I didn’t even need to move to know every small motion was going to hurt like hell. So I stayed still for a moment, letting my instincts kick in before my brain fully caught up. I scanned the room automatically. White walls. Steady beeping from the monitors. The door shut tight. One chair pulled close beside my bed. Mercer was sitting there, his elbows resting on his knees, watching me like he hadn’t moved in hours. I let out a rough breath and tried pushing myself up with my good arm. The second I moved, pain ripped through my shoulder. My vision blurred for a moment, and my entire body reminded me exactly how much damage I had taken. “Shit.” “Easy there, Sparky,” Mercer said, his voice low and exhausted. “You’re in a hospital, not a prison. You don’t need to
Tiffany’s POV The next morning, I found myself standing inside the airport terminal with my duffel bag hanging from my shoulder. I pulled out the new phone Mercer had given me and checked his message for what had to be the fifth time. His instructions had been simple. 'Meet Detective Summer Abrams near Gate 12.' Except apparently, finding one specific person in an airport filled with thousands of travelers was not nearly as easy as Mercer made it sound. The problem was not just the crowd. It was the thoughts. Airports were basically torture for someone like me. Everywhere I looked, someone’s mind was shouting something. [Please don’t let my luggage be overweight.][Did I lock the front door? I definitely locked it. Right?][If my flight gets delayed again, I’m going to lose it.][Why is this line moving so slowly? The person in front of me has been standing there forever.][Should I buy a sandwich? No, it’s too expensive. But I’m hungry. Okay, maybe just the sandwich.] It wa
Tiffany’s POV I stared at the folder in front of me like it might bite me. “No. I’m not going back to Riverton.” Mercer didn’t react. He just watched me carefully. I didn’t have to read his mind to know he was expecting me to fight him on this. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Tiffany, but it’s the only option I have right now,” he said. “You can’t read Scars, but your gift hasn’t disappeared. It still works on everyone else. Even Jacquelline.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Riverton had been hard. The interrogation rooms. The criminals sitting across from me while their thoughts revealed everything they refused to say out loud. The things I heard. The things I couldn’t forget. But the truth was, I had been dealing with other people’s darkness long before I became a detective. I remembered being a kid and hearing my mother come home drunk late at night. I remembered the anger in her thoughts before she ever opened her mouth. She hated my ability. She hated that I co
Tiffany's POV Hours later, I found myself staring at the bag sitting on the bed. The clock on the wall read nine o’clock. We had exactly two hours before the ship sailed, and for the first time, the weight of what we were about to walk into really started settling in my stomach. I slipped into t
Tiffany’s POV Five minutes later, we were shoved into matching salon chairs. Apparently, the “premium transformation package” came with champagne, cucumber water, and two stylists aggressively touching our hair without permission. I stared at myself in the mirror while a pink-haired stylist sect
Tiffany's POV “Alright then, I’m leaving before you suddenly decide I need a fake fiancé too.” Mercer snorted quietly, already reaching for another file. “Don’t tempt me.” A small laugh escaped me before I turned toward the door. “Oh, and Tiffany?” Mercer called before I reached it. I glanced b
Tiffany's POV Mercer fought back a smile. "Hale is one of the best detectives we have." "He already hates me," I countered. "He hates everyone. Don't take it personally." [Including me. Constantly.] Mercer leaned across his desk, his expression turning serious. "Tiffany, Hale has spent the last







