CHAPTER 17

The morning air was heavy with fog as Celeste stepped out into the bustling city, the heels of her boots clicking at the sidewalk. She pulled her coat tighter, though it wasn’t the bloodlessness that made her shiver—it became the whole thing else. Everything she’d just learned.

Her father might be alive.

And Damien—he had known. He had lied. Again.

She’d left the estate at dawn, needing space, clarity. But clarity didn’t come. Her mind reeled, images flashing like broken glass: her father’s face, half in shadow in that flickering video. His warning—don’t trust Damien. Don’t trust the Viper.

What did it mean?

She became a nook, seeking awareness, while something pricked at the back of her neck. A funny feeling in her guts—the one that had kept her alive this lengthy—whispered to her now.

She was being watched.

She slowed her pace, glanced at the display window of a closed boutique. Reflected in the glass, a man stood across the street. Gray hoodie, palms in pockets, head low.

W