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Louder this time.
More insistent.
Like it’s done waiting.
Ronan’s voice cuts through the moment.
“Lark.”
I turn.
And whatever he sees on that screen—
It’s worse than Vienna.
Worse than a list.
Worse than a threat.
Because his voice is different now.
Tight.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
“They’ve made their move.”
Aaron’s grip tightens on my hand.
“Where?”
Ronan looks at me.
Not Aaron.
Not the team.
Me.
“They’re forcing the choice.”
My stomach drops.
Because I already know.
I just don’t want to hear it.
“Between what?” Aaron demands.
Ronan doesn’t hesitate.
“Me,” he says.
A beat.
Then—
