He knows exactly how much restraint it took not to pull the trigger when I had the chance. He saw the hesitation and banked on it.
That knowledge burns hotter than the rage because it means he’s counting on me to make the same mistake twice. But I won’t. I refuse to let indecision be the thing that costs my family everything.
I press my palm flat against the desk and bow my head for a second, letting the anger sharpen instead of explode.
Rage is useful when it’s focused, and when I lift my head again, my resolve is set like steel.
If Lorcan thinks I’m done hunting him, he’s made a fatal miscalculation. All day I’ve been trying to track him down, but so far it’s been nothing but dead ends and smoke trails that vanish the second I get close. Every lead collapses, and every informantgoes quiet. Cameras have been glitching, and accounts have gone cold, leaving me with nothing to show for the past twenty-four hours.
But I refuse to feel beaten.
At the sound of the door unlocking, I turn my head just as Kieran appears.
He takes one look at my face, then at the chipped plaster in the wall and my cracked phone on the floor, and raises a brow.
“Things going that well, huh?”
“Get out,” I mutter.
He ignores me as he strolls over to the bar, snatching up a bottle of liquor and a rocks glass.
“Were you aiming for something in particular, or just being dramatic?”
I straighten and stalk across the room, scooping my phone up off the floor. The screen is cracked, but it still works, which is my only win of the day.
I pocket my phone. “It’s been a shit morning.”
“I take it the leads went nowhere.”
I don’t bother answering.
It’s laughable how much of a wild goose chase Lorcan has sent us on in the past twenty-four hours. Considering I had him in fucking chains, and he still managed to run circles around us… Our father would be turning in his grave if he knew how badly we had managed to fuck this up.
“That and the fact that Adrian Smirnov is breathing down my neck.”
That gets Kieran’s attention.
He pauses mid-pour, glancing at me over his shoulder. “What about him?”
“He’s been calling. I’ve been dodging him.”
“That’s a bad move.”
“I know.”
Kieran watches me too closely. “You’re wound tight. Even for you.”
“You would be wound tight too if you had let the wrong man walk out alive,” I snap.
He sets the glass down on the marble bar top. “That’s not what I meant. You’re spiraling.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’ve got Lorcan on the loose, and Smirnov circling me like a vulture. What part of that suggests I should be calm?”
Kieran studies me for a long beat, and I see the usual sharpness in his eyes dull just a fraction.
“I’m not saying you should be.”
“Then what are you saying?”
