I meet his gaze without shifting. “Yes.”
This time, the word is harder to say. Because I do understand it. I understand every corner of this world, and every man who survives inside it by being more ruthless than the next. And I dragged Rowan straight into it anyway.
“Then why the hell was she anywhere near it?” he demands.
The question lingers long enough that I hear the faint ticking of the clock mounted high on the wall behind the shelves.
“Because Rowan made choices,” I reply finally. “And I didn’t stop her.”
Ethan’s jaw tightens so hard the muscles along his neck stand out. “You think that makes it okay?”
I shake my head once. “No. But it makes it real.”
The silence that follows thickens as he studies my face, clearly trying to decide whether shoving me again would change anything.
“She’s missing because of you,” he says more quietly now.
“I know.” I fold my arms loosely across my chest. “And I will get her back.”
Ethan exhales slowly, the anger still simmering beneath the surface but beginning to change into something darker. The burst of fury that drove him to shove me outside has burned off just enough for the reality of the situation to start pushing through.
“Who took Rowan?”
“Arkady Voronin.”
The name means nothing to him. I see it in the brief hint of confusion that crosses his expression, but the tone behind it is enough to tell him the man matters.
“And Arkady is… who exactly?”
“A man who thought he had leverage,” I say matter-of-factly.
Ethan narrows his eyes. “Thought?”
“Yes.”
Something in my voice makes him pause.
“You’re talking about this like you already know how it ends.”
“I know how it has to end.”
Before he can respond, headlights sweep suddenly across the tall study windows as a vehicle approaches the estate gates. The brief wash of white light slides across the bookshelves and the far wall before disappearing again.
I look toward the window immediately. Ethan notices and glances that way, too.
“Are you expecting someone?” he asks.
“No,” I reply slowly, pushing away from the desk.
That alone tells me something is wrong. I cross the room and pull the curtain aside just enough to see the front drive. The gates are opening, the heavy iron bars sliding apart as a single black SUV rolls forward beneath the security lights.
It isn’t one of mine.
Mikel appears in the doorway behind us, his posture alert.
“You’ll want to see this,” he says quietly.
Ethan follows us out of the study without waiting to be invited.
