He walked me to the door, the two guards parting to let us through. The hallway beyond was as elegant as the study—hardwood floors, expensive art, the trappings of wealth and power.
At the front door, O’Malley paused, his hand on the knob.
“One more thing,” he said. “Rowen Shay is going to be angry when he finds out you came here. Furious, probably. Men like him—men who’ve taken on the burden of leadership—they don’t like it when the people they’re trying to protect put themselves in danger.”
“I can handle his anger.”
“Can you?” He opened the door, humid Boston air rushing in. “Because anger from a man like that, a man who’s killed tokeep you safe, that’s not the same as anger from a professor or a boyfriend. That’s the anger of someone who’s seen what this world can do. Who knows exactly how many ways you could be hurt.”
I stepped out onto the porch, turning back to face him. “Then I’ll just have to convince him that I’m stronger than he thinks.”
“Or die trying.”
“Or die trying,” I agreed.
He nodded once, something like respect flickering in those pale eyes. “Good luck, Dr. Jefferson. You’re going to need it.”
The door closed, and I was alone on the steps of a house I should never have entered, holding a card that connected me to a world I barely understood.
But I’d done it.
I’d walked into the lion’s den and walked back out.
And I had a phone number that might—just might—be the key to reaching Rowen.
The city stretched out before me, gray and warm under an overcast sky. Somewhere in the world, Rowen was beginning his new life. Taking on responsibilities he’d never wanted. Becoming someone he’d never meant to be.
But he wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
I had allies now. Resources. A way forward.
And I’d be damned if I was going to let him face the darkness by himself.
I descended the steps, my hand closing around the card in my pocket.
The storm was coming.
But I was ready for it.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Melissa
Weeks had passed since I last saw him.
Weeks since I’d refused to return to Nebraska, refused to give up, and refused to accept that Rowen Shay was lost to me forever. Three weeks of living in limbo, caught between the life I’d left behind and the one I was trying to build.
The house he’d bought for me remained vacant, untouched. I couldn’t bring myself to live there alone, not when every corner echoed with memories and the absence of his presence. Instead, I moved in with Dante and Danika at Danny’s place. The house was spacious, offering enough room for all of us, and Dante gladly accepted the help. I attempted to reestablish a routine, to find some semblance of normalcy, but each day seemed to slip by without meaning. I felt as though I was floating, detached from everything, watching life blur past me.
The nights proved hardest of all. When everyone else had gone to bed and the house was quiet, I was left alone with my thoughts. My mind wandered to him constantly, worrying whether he was safe, happy, frightened, or in danger. I wondered if he thought about me, if he missed me as much as I missed him. The ache was persistent, a constant companion in the darkness.
It was always the same, and tonight was no different.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I wore one of his old shirts. The fabric was soft, worn from years of washing, and still carried a faint trace of his cologne. As I looked at myself,the familiar ache settled into my chest—the one that never truly disappeared.
I brushed my teeth, eyes fixed on my reflection. I noticed how different I looked compared to three weeks ago: thinner, sharper, with a hardness in my gaze that hadn’t existed before.
