I closed the panel again, twisting the screws like I’d done so many times before and rose, wiping my hands on my jeans like it could somehow make them clean.
My voice cracked. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I didn’t move. Not yet. Instead, I reached for my phone again. Opened the camera, then snapped a photo of the panel. Slightly ajar. Crude. Unmistakable. I opened my messages. Scrolled to a number.
Wolfe.
My thumbs hovered. Then typed: If you want it, come get it. Please.I attached the photo. Paused. Then hit send. I didn’t wait for the read receipt. Because if I did, I’d never leave this room, or this lie.
But I did. I turned and made my way out of the laundry, and the building taking my first real breath as I stepped outside. One call, I barely had to wait.
The cab smelled like cigarettes and old anger when I climbed in. I didn’t look at the driver, just passed him a few of the last crumpled bills I had. What was left of Barron’s envelope.
I hadn’t touched the money until tonight. I’d clung to it like maybe I wouldn’t fall all the way. But here I was. Spending it to finish what I started.
The driver asked if I was sure.
“Two blocks early,” I murmured. “Thank you.”
He didn’t argue. Smart man.
I stared out of the window at nothing really. Still, his face filled my mind those piercing dark eyes that seemed to know every secret I’d ever kept. Only he didn’t know this one.
The cab veered off, pulling up hard outside a darkened building. I muttered a, “thank you,” and climbed out.
The sidewalk felt wrong under my boots. Wet in places. Too slick. Every step echoed like it might bring the past down on my head. The hoodie swallowed me. Too big. Too warm. Too him.
I pulled it tighter. It didn’t help. The scent of Wolfe made my chest ache. Salt and smoke and command.
My phone buzzed again.
Selene:You close?
Me:Here.
I didn’t stop walking. Didn’t pause to breathe. The alley behind the café looked smaller than I remembered. Or maybe I was just bigger now—with all this fear stretching under my skin like wires pulled too tight.
The streetlamp buzzed once. Then again. Its light flickered like it didn’t want to bear witness. Shadows spilled across brick and rusted fence. My fingers curled into fists inside the sleeves of Wolfe’s hoodie. The fabric was soft. Familiar.
It made it worse.
I wasn’t just walking toward a mistake. I was wearing the memory of everything I stood to lose. And I could already feel the bruises forming. I didn’t see him at first. Not until the footsteps. Two sets. One too familiar. The other too silent. Then he stepped forward.
Callum.
His eyes were empty. Not guilt. Not anger. Just… vacancy. Like he’d already left the room. Left me. Again.
My feet stopped moving. The shadows shifted again. Another man stepped forward—broader, gloved, face hard enough to break stone. My stomach dropped.
“Where’s Selene?” I asked, voice tight, barely audible.
Callum didn’t answer.
The other man did. Scanned my hands, then shook his head.
“You were supposed to bring the book,” he snarled.
Every part of me screamed to run, still I said nothing, straightened my spine instead. He stepped into my space.
“Well, did you bring it?”
