All Chapters of The Law And The Liar: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

I should’ve walked away. Slipped out while he slept, buried everything we’d done in a locked vault of bad decisions and false comfort. But I didn’t. I stood in my kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt, clutching a half-empty mug of cold coffee like it could anchor me. The air still smelled like him earthy cologne, smoke, and the memory of his skin against mine. My thighs ached, my lips were swollen, and my heartbeat hadn’t found its rhythm since he touched me. I heard him before I saw him. Bare feet on the floorboards. A soft grunt. Then his voice, thick with sleep and something else entirely. “You’re still here.” I didn’t turn. “Don’t sound so surprised.” “I’m not,” he said. “I’m relieved.” His heat pressed into my back, bare chest brushing the thin fabric of the shirt. His arms slid around my waist, and I stiffened even as my body reacted betraying me, leaning back against him. “Don’t,” I said. But my voice lacked bite. It came out soft. Pleading. His lips brushed my neck.

I didn’t speak much during the drive. Myra sat in the passenger seat, arms folded tightly, eyes on the road like it might betray her. Like if she looked at me, we’d say the things we weren’t ready to admit. That the sex wasn’t just sex. That the danger wasn’t only from outside. She smelled like last night like sweat, and skin, and sin and it was driving me insane. The safehouse was tucked into the hills north of the city. Gated, guarded, invisible to the public. No cameras. No staff. Only me, her, and the silence we kept pretending didn’t hum with everything we hadn’t said. When we stepped inside, she crossed her arms and turned in a slow circle, taking in the sleek, cold luxury. “This your idea of laying low?” I shrugged. “It’s secure.” She snorted. “Of course it is. It’s the kind of place where murderers vacation.” I walked past her, ignoring the jab. “One bedroo

I couldn’t breathe.I stared at the screen, frozen, my eyes fixed on the frame that held my brother Kaden alive.Alive.Every bone in my body screamed that it was impossible. That it was a trick of the light, a ghost conjured by exhaustion and grief. But it wasn’t. His face was older, sharper, but unmistakably his.My brother. The boy I had grown up with. The man I buried in a closed casket.My knees buckled, and I caught the edge of the table to stay upright.“How long have you known?” I whispered to Leo.He looked uncomfortable. “I only got the footage last night. I didn’t believe it either. I ran it through three databases.”“And you didn’t think to tell me the moment it came in?”“I did.” His tone softened. “But I also knew this would break you, Myra.”I swallowed hard. “It didn’t break me.”But it did. A little. The crack in my chest widened, spilling something I’d locked away fo

I should’ve walked away. When I saw the footage had reached Myra’s hands, my first instinct was to vanish to do what I always done. Clean up the mess, shield her from the fallout, and disappear before she started asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer. But I stayed. Because somewhere between the bloodshed and broken promises, she carved a space in me I hadn’t realized was hollow. And now that she had seen Kaden… there was no going back. I watched her drive off into the night after our confrontation at the hangar. She didn’t trust me not completely. I couldn’t blame her. But the fact that she hadn’t pulled the trigger told me there was still a chance to fix this. And God, I wanted to fix this. Not just for her. For Kaden. For me. I walked back into the warehouse and locked the doors behind me. The shadows inside didn’t scare me anymore. I knew what lurked in them. Waiting.Watching.“Knew you wouldn’t be able to lie to her forever.” The voice came from the far side of the

I stayed in that warehouse long after Kaden hung up. Part of me hoped he would call again. Another part of me hoped he wouldn’t because I wasn’t sure I could hear his voice without screaming this time.The wall in front of me didn’t lie. It was messy, frantic, layered with years of hiding and half-truths. But the truth was there. Beneath the maps. Beneath the names. Beneath the photo of me, holding a gun to Raffaele’s chest with pain written across my face.And at the center of it all was that symbol. A three headed wolf inside a perfect black ring.I had seen it before on the body of a man found burned alive in a church two weeks ago. No ID. No prints. No dental matches. The coroner said the tattoo was branded into the muscle, not inked.Like a warning. Or a claim.I snapped a photo of the symbol and sent it to the one person who owed me more than just answers.I texted Raffaele saying “What the hell is this? And don’t lie to me this time.”The reply came minutes later. Raffaele repl