I thought he might refuse. Then something shifted behind his eyes. He straightened his jacket and walked toward the door without another word.
Two agents moved beside him.
The entire exchange remained controlled—no shouting, no struggle. I moved closer to the front windows as they escorted him outside to the waiting vehicles. The overhead lights caught in his black hair, caramel highlights flashing briefly as he turned toward the house.
And that was when I noticed the other car. Parked farther down the drive, partially hidden by the curve of the hedges. Black. Engine running. Charles Dunn sat behind the wheel and watched as Lorne was guided toward the back seat of the government vehicle.
Moments later, the convoy pulled away, disappearing down the long driveway that stretched toward the gate.
Mom stepped forward and closed the front door. Without a word, everyone drifted toward the family room.
Dad sank slowly into one of the chairs near the fireplace. The movement looked heavier than I’d ever seen from him. Mom remained standing, probably already thinking through what the fallout would require.
Drew stepped forward then. His voice cut gently through the silence. “I’ll handle this.”
Dad lifted his head to look at him.
Drew’s expression remained calm and focused—as if he had already begun mapping the damage and the response.
Watching him in that moment, it hit me slowly. While the rest of us reacted to what had just happened—Drew looked prepared for it.
The government vehicles disappeared beyond the gates at the end of the drive.
Standing there in the quiet that followed, I understood something with uncomfortable clarity. Whoever had started this war had never been aiming at Lorne alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MILA
Luke texted me just after nine.Roof. Nothing else.
He didn’t need more words. The roof above the rink had been ours since the beginning. Whenever things in Blackwood became too complicated, we went there to breathe.
I grabbed my hoodie and slipped out, calling to Mom and Edwardo that I was meeting Luke.
The drive across town felt strangely quiet that night. The streets were calm in that deceptive way small towns adopted when something significant had happened and the news hadn’t started circulating yet.
I parked beside the rink and let myself in through the side entrance Luke and I used. The building sat dark and hollow at night, the ice below humming faintly beneath the refrigeration system. I climbed the narrow stairwell that led to the roof, the metal railing cool beneath my hand.
When I pushed the door open, Luke was already there, waiting.
He’d spread our blanket across the roof, the same one he always brought up here. The night air carried the briny scent ofthe ocean, cool enough to make me pull my jacket tighter around my shoulders.
Luke sat with his back against the low concrete barrier that ringed the roof, long legs stretched out in front of him. The lights of Blackwood spread out below like scattered stars, but his attention lifted the moment he heard the door close behind me.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
I crossed the roof slowly and lowered myself onto the blanket beside him. His arm slipped around my shoulders immediately, drawing me into the familiar warmth of his body.
The silence between us felt heavy but not uncomfortable. I rested my head against his shoulder and looked out across the town.
“So,” I murmured finally. “It happened.”
Luke’s gaze shifted toward me. “How’d you know?”
“Mom got a call about it a few minutes before you texted,” I answered quietly. “Her FBI contact.”
His brow rose. “What’d he tell her?”
