Every bitter thing I've carried over the years—the resentment, the rage, the certainty I thought I knew—all of it starts to splinter. Fractures spreading through iron I thought was solid.
I was wrong.
I was so fucking wrong.
And the first time I'm hearing my son's name is here. In this room. From the mouth of the man who stole him from me. The same bastard who's now using him as leverage to control the woman who loved me enough to leave a trail I'd eventually find.
I want to reach across the desk and crush his windpipe.
"Understood, monsieur."
"Good." Calder straightens, satisfied. "Just remember that if you develop any confusion about your role here, I'll know. And it won't end well for you."
I hold steady under his stare. "I'm here to do a job, monsieur. Nothing more."
"That is all."
I stand, keeping every muscle in my body locked down tight.
Because if I don't, I'll kill him right here.
And that's not the plan.
The hallway isempty when I step out.
My pulse is hammering. My jaw aches. I need to punch something so badly.
He thinks he's so fucking clever. Hiring a gay man to watch his wife because he assumes there's no threat. No possibility of distraction or desire.
He has no idea who I am.
No idea what I'm capable of.
No idea that the man he just gave unrestricted access to Keira is the same man who's been hunting her for months.
The irony is so perfect it's almost funny.
Marchand appears at my elbow. "Boss give you the rundown?"
"Oui."
"Interior duty." He grins. "Lucky bastard. Beats freezing your ass off on patrol."
"Guess so."
"Fair warning though—Mrs. Calder's a bit off. Keeps to herself. Doesn't talk much. Just does what she's told and stays out of the way, for the most part. Things can get a bit rough with the two of them. Try to tune it out when it happens."
I stop walking. "What do you mean?"
He looks full of regret for running his mouth when he probably shouldn't have. "It's honestly nothing. Just marriage shit, you know?"
Does what she's told.
Stays out of the way.
The Keira I knew would've slit his throat in his sleep.
Marchand claps me on the shoulder. "Come on. I'll show you the interior routes."
