That was actually the best answer I could’ve gotten.
Amara wasn’t plotting.
She was moving on.
And women moving forward were never dangerous.
Women standing still were.
I finished the bourbon and poured another one before I made the call that mattered.
France.
The nurse answered on the second ring.
“Mr. Delacroix.”
“How is she?”
“Miss Laveau is awake.”
My body stilled slightly.
“She asked for you.”
The glass paused halfway to my mouth.
“She did?”
“Yes.”
“How is she?”
“She is weak but stable. Her appetite is returning slowly. The doctor is satisfied with her recovery. But she is asking for a vape.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see it.
“Don’t give her one.”
“She has been asking when you will return,” the nurse added.
I stared out over the city lights again.
“Tell her I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“I will.”
“And make sure she gets whatever she wants, just nothing illegal.”
“Yes, sir.”
I ended the call and set the phone down.
For a moment, I just stood there listening to the silence of the penthouse.
Lyric.
Bianca.
