“You could’ve just sent me after her in the first place.”
“You need to learn how to pivot and adapt in the field.”
Scar’s mind was racing.
Meridian’s voice was low and gravely, carving his instructions into Scar’s bones. “Being a Raven is ninety-nine percent positioning, observing, acquiring, then disappearing. Engaging but being unmemorable. If you play it too safe, your mission will fail. If you go all-in too hard, you become the hunted.”
Scar’s mouth went dry.
Meridian stood and buttoned his suit jacket.
“And here comes your hunter.”
Scar turned to find Anya sauntering toward his table, another button undone on her blouse, a slip of paper between her fingers, and determination in her gaze.
When he looked back, Meridian was gone. Dissolved into the room the way smoke vanishes into the air.
Scar panicked, because the gray pantsuit woman was already standing and signaling for her check.
He met Anya halfway to his table and took her hand into his like a gentleman, steering her back toward the bar. He raised his voice enough to carry to the end of the bar.
“Listen,” he said, smooth as he could manage, “you’re gorgeous. But you’re a little…young.”
Anya blinked her false lashes. “Excuse me?”
Scar glanced past her to his mark and heatedly held her gaze when she finally looked at him.
“I like refined,” he continued, his voice warm and persuasive. “A woman who’s independent and seasoned.”
His real mark kept staring.
The bartender’s face tightened. “Wow.”
“I’m just being honest.” He smiled at her as if he were sorry.
He licked his lips at his mark, and increased the heat in his gaze, and to his relief, gray pantsuit sat back down.
Black Ravens
Ex
Ex woke with a chill in his bones.
Not the frustrating, pull-the-covers-up-higher kind.
It was the cold feeling that meant Meridian had never gotten into their bed.
The clock read 1:07 a.m.
He lay there for a few minutes, listening, but there was no life inside their home.
Ex hadn’t asked where Meridian was taking Scar or what he’d planned to do with him. Meridian wasn’t the kind of man who explained himself or justified his actions.
Ex dragged the charcoal goose-down comforter off the bed, wrapped it around himself, and padded barefoot through their condo.
It was dark, and the terrace doors were wide open, allowing the winter air to creep in and curl around his calves.
His better half was sitting bare-chested on the patio couch in front of the firepit, with a diamond-cut glass of dark liquor hanging loose in his fingers.
