“Maybe, but I haven’t gotten any closer to locating them. I hit a wall every time. I’m getting really fucking sick of running into dead ends.” The muscles between his brows knot tighter, frustration written all over his face.
I push up from my chair and clap a hand between his shoulder blades. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.” I drop my empty plate into the sink and head for the hall. “I’ve got a couple of jobs to check in on before tonight,” I call over my shoulder. Whatever Cam yells back is swallowed by the click of the bathroom door. Cueing up The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens, letting the opening notes bleed into the tiled room as I crank the water as hot as it’ll go. My gaze stops on the mirror. I search my own reflection, willing something—anything—from those missing years to surface. Nothing. Just that same blank stretch where my childhood should be.No surprise there.Exhaling, I strip, stepping under the spray. The scalding water pounds against my skin until it’s the only thing I can feel.
A few hours later, I’m back under the spray, washing off the shitshow of the day. The foreman on one job botched the bathroom framing so badly that it all had to be ripped out and redone. The other site wasn’t a total loss—more of a preventable headache they should’ve handled without me. I make a mental note to talk to Cam about replacing the dumbass we never should’ve hired in the first place. With the clock ticking, I keep the shower quick, towel off, and shrug into the tux from the opera, letting the familiar weight of it settle me back into the role I need to play tonight.
Straightening the lapels of the suit, I take a final glance in the mirror.I need answers.Wade’s on my ass about finding this shadow haunting him, but we keep hitting walls. It’s frustrating. I shake off the annoyance that's flowing through my body.Now's not the time to start losing it.I grab my keys, shooting a text to Cam, letting him know I’m heading out since he had a last-minute job come up.
Thirty-five minutes later, I’m waltzing into the ballroom. Dark red and stark white lights pulse in uneven pockets around the room, casting jagged shadows along the walls as the chandeliers catch the glow, fracturing it into shards of crimson. Peonies—her mom’s favorites—are everywhere, lush heads of deep red and pristine white arranged along tables and pedestals like an altar to a woman Wade helped bury. The place is packed, bodies and laughter and crystal clinking for a cause that doesn’t exist, not the way it’s written in the brochure. I recognize enough faces from past jobs to know exactly how rotten this room really is. The few I don’t recognize make me wonder if they have any idea what they’ve bought tickets to. Wade’s billed me as a special guest for some organization I’ve never even heard of. Whatever game he’s playing, I’m now an important player.
Something tugs at me, and I turn my head to the left. There stands Kiera beside Lila. The two of them dressed like the same side of a dark night. Lila’s in a low-cut dress that shifts through shades of darkness, made to catch every wandering eye. Kiera is dressed like death, coming to collect souls. A fittedblack lace dress clings to her, the sheer pattern revealing a white slip beneath. The plunging neckline, wicked against the fabric's purity. The lace spills down into red blossoms at the hem, like blood dripping from the edge of a shroud. Her hair is curled and tossed over her shoulder, exposing the long line of her throat.She’s beautiful.I move toward her before I’ve even decided to, drawn in.
Kiera’s head snaps in my direction, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before she slams her expression back into place. “Why are you here?” she asks, her voice aiming for neutral and landing somewhere closer to shock.
“I was invited,” I answer truthfully, a hint of amusement curling the words. “Why else would I be here?”
“Oh, I don’t know—Maybe to keep up the whole stalker routine you’ve got going,” she scoffs.
“Well, I was invited here to stalk,” I tease, letting my boyish smile pull at my mouth. “But lucky for you, you’re not my target tonight.”
The mic squeals as Wade taps it, drawing the room’s attention. “Good evening, everyone. I would like to invite my daughter, Kiera, and tonight's guest, Sterling, up here to say a few words.” Kiera’s gaze cuts to me. I just shrug; this is the first time I’m hearing about any of it. I offer her my arm, and she threads hers through, softly placing her hand on my forearm, the two of us crossing the room under a hundred curious eyes. Onstage, I send Wade a what the fuck look. I wasn’t prepared to speak.
Kiera clears her throat, her voice smooth over the speakers. “Hello, I’m Kiera Hawthorne, as many of you know. Tonight we have a special guest, so instead of giving you my usual speech, I’m going to let Sterling tell you about his charity.” She turns, amusement sparking in her eyes as she hands me the mic.Wicked little thorn.
“Thank you, Kiera.” A smooth smile carves itself into my facade. “I am excited to be here with y’all tonight. Now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for.” A soft ripple of laughter moves through the crowd. “Tonight’s event is one from my own heart: Helping Hands from Neighbors. We focus on underprivileged kids—whether they’re growing up in low-income families or navigating the foster care system. Our goal is simple…” I pause for a moment, making sure everyone is paying attention. “To help these kids break the cycle they were born into and give them a real shot at succeeding in life.” Applause swells, and when I look over, Kiera has a look of awe and shock. Like she’s never seen me before. “So tonight, let’s have a damn good time,” I add, letting a hint of drawl and charm seep in, “and remember that every dollar you spend can help a kid who needs it. Thank you.” I step back from the mic as she moves in to reclaim it.
“Well, you heard it from Sterling—let’s show up for the children and make tonight the best event we’ve had this year. The auction will begin at nine p.m.” Kiera steps away from the mic and crosses back to me, skirts whispering over the stage. “Do you really help these kids?” she states almost accusingly under the noise of the room. “Or is this just another one of my dad’s facades?”
“Seeing as he didn’t tell me what to say, I picked one I actually believe in,” I answer, catching her hand and guiding her to the dance floor. “I’m not a complete asshole.”
“What are you doing? Dinner will be served soon.” She tries to yank her hand back, but I keep my grip firm.
“Kiera, one dance. That’s all I ask.” She narrows her eyes at me, suspicion written all over her face, but after a moment, she gives a tight nod. I slide a hand to her waist and pull her in, closing the last of the space between us as she rests her hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to askyou,” I whisper, keeping my voice low, “how much do you know about your dad?”
Kiera tips her face up toward me. “I know enough, but also not enough. I know he’s responsible for my mom’s death. I know he's shady, but the details? I don’t know that.” Her fingers tense slightly against my shoulder, and her eyes skate past mine for just a second too long.She’s hiding something.
“Have you ever heard of Cicada?” The word is barely out before she jerks away from me, our hands falling apart mid-step.
Kiera’s face goes still, her eyes falling wide like a deer caught in headlights. “How do you know about that?”
Before I can answer, the music cuts out mid-beat, and the same song from the emails floods the ballroom. I pivot toward the stage. A video flickers to life on the massive screen—grainy footage of Wade and Evelyn arguing on the night she was murdered. The room goes quiet enough that every raised voice from the recording seems to echo. Wade stands off to the side, staring straight at me. I turn back to Kiera. She’s gone, already back on stage. “I am so sorry for that.” Her voice is tight but steady as she apologizes. “It seems someone is trying to hurt my father. Despite the video you just saw, he loved my mom dearly. Let’s remember the kids we are here for. We are going to start the auction early and call it a night.” Kiera steps away from the mic and walks offstage, disappearing through the double doors.
I trail her through the doors and spot her already with Lila. She’s laughing at something, posture loose, not a hint of the shaken girl who just faced a room full of vultures.She knows more than she’s letting on.I head back into the ballroom and zero in on Wade. “Did you find them?” he asks the second I’m close enough to hear him.
I shake my head. “No. But this place is sitting behind a heavily encrypted firewall. Whoever pushed this video through? They were inside tonight.” Moving closer, I lower my voice, “Do you have a guest list from tonight—and from the first time this happened? I can cross-reference them and narrow down the overlap. It’ll put us that much closer to finding whoever’s pulling the strings.”
Kiera appears at Wade’s side a few seconds later. If she caught any of what I just said, she doesn’t show it. “Dad, I’m sorry. I don’t know how they could’ve done that,” slipping into the role of dutiful daughter. “The system’s been upgraded since the last event.”
“It’s okay, how could you have known?” Wade pulls her into a hug that’s all for show. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll try to save face here.” Kiera offers a small, practiced smile and turns away. “You too,” he adds, his gaze cutting back to me. “I’ll email the list now. Find them.” I nod once and fall into step after Kiera.
Before I can make it to her, her taillights are already disappearing down the drive. “You missed her.” Lila steps out from around the corner, arms folded. “What do you want with her? She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need whatever you and Wade are up to.”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” I meet her gaze, not bothering to soften it. “I just know I want her. There’s no secret agenda, but I’m not going to stand here and pretend I’m a good man.” My mouth quirks, humorless. “What I can promise is I won’t hurt her—at least not in a way she doesn’t ask for.”
“You’re an ass,” Lila states flatly. “Just know she’s not the only one with a violent streak. Don’t fucking hurt her.” Her jaw tightens, eyes gone hard. “Ash...” She pauses like she almost let something slip. “Someone else did, and I didn’t get the chance to fuck him up. You, though?” She leans in just a fraction. “I will gladly hurt you for her.”
“Who hurt her?” I press on, the question coming out sharper than I intend. An irrational surge of anger spikes under my skin, hot and unfamiliar.What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Not my place to say. You want to know, ask her. Good luck, Sterling.” Lila turns on her heel and slips her arm through the one offered by a man I don’t recognize, letting him lead her back toward the glow of the ballroom. I head for my truck, the night pressing in around me as I drive home with more questions than answers.
