Point Of Retreat Colleen Hoover Novels & Stories

Everything was curated to perfection—an image of love reborn, luxury uncompromised, and partnership elevated to its peak. Her phone vibrated across the vanity. Private Line – Genevieve P. Beth frowned and answered, rising from her chair and walking into her private soundproofed study. “Genevieve,” she said with brisk confidence, “this better be worth the early call. I’m approving rollouts today.” Genevieve’s voice came through calm, sharp, and methodical—as always. “I have confirmation, Beth. Kingsley and Katherine were both at the same retreat camp. Same location. Same dates. One full month. All the records align.”

The surge of energy bypassed him as he flew away. "Donal? Sean?" He called to his brothers in his mind. They answered. "I need to talk to you." "We're at Colleen's apartment. I'll text you the address," Sean said. Declan landed on a roof and turned back to human form to look at his phone. He memorized the address then took off into the night to meet his brothers. *** Declan landed on the deck outside of Colleen's penthouse. His brothers waited, relaxing on deck chairs. Sean pointed to one. "Sit. What did you do?"

Torque asked. “Because of my weapons expertise. I used to be in charge of security and fortifying perimeter systems,” Colleen answered. Her voice shook as she spoke, but as long as she kept telling the truth, she’d be okay. “When was the last time you spoke with Shiro?” Hatchett asked. “The last time I spoke directly to him was when Tippy failed at her attempt to take Cillian out,” Colleen said.

The spiral she worked on bled into the next, like a chain that would never end. Savannah’s knees weakened. Her vision tilted. The thought came unbidden—if she stayed here, if she kept watching, she’d lose herself in those lines and never come back. *** Colton didn’t speak as he loaded the small duffel bag into the back of Rhett’s SUV. His jaw was a granite line, his hands steady but too tight on the zipper. Eva stood on the porch, her coat thrown over her nightclothes, eyes darting between them like she was trying to understand a language that wasn’t being spoken aloud.