The hollow ache in my chest transforms into something sharper, more purposeful. My mate has been harassed and exposed, but now I have a way to identify the person responsible for her pain.
And they won’t get any mercy from me.
"It has to be someone close to Rona," I say slowly, pieces clicking into place. "Someone with inside knowledge of both Asterion's systems and Senator Quinn's schedule."
The picture becomes clearer with each detail Malcolm reveals. This is coming from someone who knows her and she should be able to trust. It has to be coming from the senator’s immediate entourage.
And I'm going to find the bastard responsible.
Starting now.
"Get your gear. We’re leaving."
I move toward my coat hanging by the door, purpose crystallizing into action for the first time in hours.
"Absolutely. Just like old times!" Malcolm grins, the expression transforming his normally serious features into something almost feral. "Let’s go catch that mole."
"There's something I need you to understand," I tell Malcolm as I shrug into my coat. "This isn't about proving a point. This is about the woman I love. This is about protecting my mate."
“I get it.” Malcolm's expression sobers. "And for what it's worth, whoever did this is about to have a very bad day."
I pause with my hand on the door handle, looking back at the paint supplies still scattered across the kitchen table. They can wait a little longer. But justice? Justice can't wait another minute.
I’m coming, Rona.
I step out into the bitter night air, Malcolm beside me with his laptop bag clutched tight. Snow crunches under our boots as we make our way to my SUV, breath forming white clouds that dissipate immediately in the dry cold.
As I start the engine and back out of the driveway, one thought burns bright and clear in my mind. I made Rona a promise before I left that hotel room. I told her I would make this right.
Time to keep my word.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rona
Ishouldfeelsomething.Rage. Regret. Grief. Something.
But I don’t. I’m totally numb.
I’m so hollow now that Darhg is gone from my life that I don’t really feel anything. I’m not even afraid. I don’t really care what happens to me anymore. Or what happens to my mother’s career.
I stand against the window seam, my forehead pressed against the cool glass, staring without really seeing into thewinter dusk. My reflection blurs in the darkening pane. I look like a ghost of myself, pale and insubstantial. Which is fitting because that’s how I feel.
Like I have no substance at all.
I keep repeating to myself that I did the right thing. That pushing Darhg away to shield him from my mother’s wrath was the best way to protect him. That he’s going to move on with his life and forget me.
I know the last part is a lie. Darhg is an ogre. They mate for life. He won’t forget me. I won’t forget him, either.
Maybe when this is all over, I can go back to Saltford Bay and beg for his forgiveness.
Behind me, the muted television freezes on that damning photograph of Darhg and me kissing, while Caroline's tablet bathes the table in cold light, displaying a split screen of comment sections and trending hashtags. I used to worry about such things. Not anymore.
The only thing I care about is Darhg. And Darhg is gone.
The air tastes stale with old coffee and cold takeout, and despite being surrounded by people, I feel more alone than I ever have in my life.
My mother moved us all to a conference suite on the top floor of the hotel minutes after Darhg left. It feels like a prison cell, overlooking the freeway and the frozen landscape. Beige carpet, cream walls, blackout drapes that can't quite hide the circus of black security vehicles dotting the parking lot below. A long ovaltable dominates the center of the room, cluttered with open laptops, charging cables, and sheets of paper.
