The approach to Gregory’s house was blocked off, and the news reporters had been pushed back to a point beyond view of the house, where the trees were set back from the road, leaving a gravel edge convenient for parking. Shadow had to park far back from the blockade, behind rows of news vans, support vehicles, a couple of ambulances on standby, and the cars of curious passers-by, and they worked their way through news crews and thrill seekers alike as they made their way to the police-guarded rope. “Anything?” Raven asked Shadow who had his phone to his ear, redialling Vixen’s phone for the one hundredth time since the news story. He rose onto his tip toes, craning his neck, searching through the crowds of police and SWAT officers behind the barricade, looking for Vixen. “What colour was her hair today?” “Rings out,” Shadow shook his head. His face was pale. “I can’t remember man,” he added. “Blonde, I think. Though my mind has totally shut down, and maybe that was yesterday? Blonde

Vixen stacked her boxes against the wall in the new apartment. Office. Apartment. Whatever. She was relatively sure that Thomas did not know about this building, as his sexuality had been Gregory’s closely held secret. She knew that Gregory had made Andrew make the purchase disappear off the books. The accountant had been very helpful from his sandy, sunny, retirement. And that was all that mattered. That she and her boy toys would be safe. “Alright?” Shadow paused by her, carrying a box. He had taken off his shirt, pushing it into his waistband, and his face was sweaty, his arms and chest dirty as the dust from the boxes mixed with his sweat, leaving behind streaks. She smiled at him with false brightness. “Fine.” He was still worried about her. She had made choices that she did not regret, but they had come with a cost, and she had paid it. Broken boy toys, she thought, and a broken Domme. But she was a Fixer, and she would f-king fix herself, along with her boys. She saw the