Lena reached across the table, catching her hand, squeezing hard. “Too late. You told me. Which means I’m in it whether you like it or not. That’s how this works, Clara.”
Her eyes stung, tears pricking the corners. She gripped Lena’s hand back, tighter than she meant to.
Across from them, Lotus tilted her head slightly, as though listening again, then said softly, “She’s good. Strong. But we need to move soon.”
Clara nodded, swallowing hard.
Her gaze drifted past Lena’s shoulder again, to Valentina and Scout. The sight grounded her, the dog leaping for the ball, Valentina’s easy stance, and she held onto it like a lifeline.
Because the truth was, no matter how ordinary this coffee stand looked, the air buzzed with danger.
And she’d just pulled her best friend into the storm.
Lena’s grip was still warm around her fingers when the atmosphere shifted.
It was subtle at first, a scrape of wood against stone, the faint shift of air as someone pulled a chair up close. Then came the scent, slicing through the roasted coffee and steamed milk. Sharp, expensive, and suffocatingly familiar.
Her stomach dropped.
She didn’t need to look. She already knew.
Oliver slid into the chair beside her as if he’d been expected. His suit was immaculate, his smile smooth as polished glass, his presence filling the small space until it seemed the whole café revolved around him.
“Clara, darling,” he said warmly, as though they were lovers who had said goodbye this morning and were now meeting by chance. “And Lena. What a delightful coincidence.”
Her body locked, her breath caught high in her chest.
Lena blinked, frowning. “Oliver? What are you…”
“Shh.” He lifted a finger to his lips, playful, indulgent. At the same time, his other hand moved under the table, precise, unhurried.
Something cold pressed into Clara’s ribs. Metallic. Unmistakable, making her flinch in her chair.
Her throat closed. Her hands crushed her paper cup, coffee spilling hot over her skin, and still, she couldn’t move. Paralysed with fear, her gaze jumped to Lotus, who just watched Oliver with a calmness that made her feel infinitesimally better.
Lotus’ smile remained faint, her eyes lazy and amused. Only the faintest shift of her shoulders told Clara she’d clocked every detail.
“Well, well,” Oliver murmured, tilting his head at Lotus. “Lotus herself. I’d wondered when they’d send one of you to babysit.” His eyes glinted with mockery. “Tell me, did Watchdog draw the short straw this time or is he still hiding in some van full of screens?”
Clara’s stomach flipped.Watchdog. Oliver knew.
Oliver’s smile widened at her reaction, as though reading her thoughts. “Don’t look so shocked, darling. You didn’t think I was blind to who’s been hovering around you, did you? Bás. Duchess. Titan. All your little shadows.” His teeth flashed in a smile that never reached his eyes. “Family. Isn’t that what they call themselves?”
Lotus’s expression didn’t flicker. She leaned back in her chair, arms loose, as though they were discussing theatre tickets. “Careful, Oliver. Knowing names isn’t the same as holding cards.”
The gun pressed harder into Clara’s side. Her pulse thundered. She couldn’t look at Lena, couldn’t breathe.
Oliver leaned close, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his voice soft, silky, deadly. “You should know better,” he whispered, “than to try and leave me, darling. We had a deal after all. I keep your parents safe, and you become my blushing bride. I guess if you break the deal, then I no longer need to keep your parents safe.”
He placed so much emphasis on the word safe it was impossible not to understand his implication. She married him, or her parents died.
Chapter 23
The screens litup with fractured feeds, the coffee stand, pedestrians passing, traffic inching by. Ordinary, forgettable, until the chair scraped.
He saw Oliver slide into frame. Smooth. Smiling. Bold as brass.
Every muscle in his body locked. “No,” he muttered, his breath catching. How the hell had he evaded the cameras and drones?
