FINDING ELENA
Instead, he found himself watching the curve of her hand as she brushed a strand of hair from her face, intrigued by the way her composure rebuilt itself after every break.
“She wouldn't let me go,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.
“I see,” Ary said finally.
His eyes never left her.
He allowed the silence to stretch between them.
Lesser people would have squirmed under his intentional gaze.
But Elena didn’t. She sat with her fingers laced tightly in her lap, waiting.
He recognized the look of a survivor, one who'd faced darkness and emerged battle-hardened, the kind who’d rather fight than beg.
“Ms. Nolan,” he said quietly. “That card is a death warrant.”