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It only rings twice. I’m sure he’s been waiting since he texted us twenty minutes ago.
“It’s done,” I tell him.
“Good.” He sighs, probably debating if he should launch a pep talk or let sleeping dogs lie—more like enraged fucking hounds, which is likely the culprit for him moving on. “Rex stayed behind?”
“Yes,” I confirm as Gage hightails it out of gated suburbia, wheels spinning on the wet roads with a grumble. The angry navy sky is apropos, cracking out its warnings as we hurtle toward our next fucked-up endeavor. “Has the motherfucker slithered out of the gutter yet?”
“Detroit.”
That’s a silver lining.
I switch Wells to speaker and open my text threads, alerting the flight crew we’ll be flying to Detroit immediately. “We’re on our way. Want to send Ty?” I snag my Zippo from my pocket, craving the soothing clanks. “Could be cathartic.”
Gage chuckles darkly. “I love that fucking idea. Give him a taste of revenge so he can finally put that shit behind him.”
“No,” Wells hisses curtly. “This isn’t the time.” Sounds like there’s more to that, but before I can probe, he hits me with the shiny-ass question that everyone wants to know. “You have the book in your possession, correct?”
Snick. Flick. Flame.
The road and trees and grand McMansions blur into the gray rainstorm as I tie up our last loose end. “Got it.”
He pauses for a beat, his voice strained and thick when he asks, “Does she know?”
Snick. Flick. Flame.
My heart thrashes in my chest, shattering into fragmented pieces after she finally made it whole. “Not yet.”
CELESTE
He fucking left. He just left me here. How could he do that after all the promises he proclaimed?
“Remember the sunrise.”
I suppose he didn’t really leave me. He left to handle something. And he omitted what he was doing to keep me safe.
I’m a big girl. I can understand that.
Understand it and still not like it.
But I’m guessing that’s what I signed up for—a lifetime of half-truths and covert dealings. Like how Wells kept the threats directed at my family and me a secret from Ivy. And she’s the head of the O’Reilly family and a KORT chair. But he’s her husband, so he made a call.
To keep her safe. To keep her sane.
That only serves to deepen my intrigue. What couldn’t Liam tell me?
After a few slow, meditating breaths, I stroll through the house in search of my parents, but my father finds me before I ever make it to the great room.
He kicks his chin toward the wing of the house designated for his business. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s chat.”
While his face doesn’t betray much, something about his whole demeanor tells me he knows Liam is gone. Maybe he told Liam to go. Or maybe he simply saw Gage leave and assumed. It doesn’t really make a difference. Liam ditched me either way.
“Of course,” I reply with every ounce of that cultivated composure I swore to Liam that I’d proffer when I set foot on this floor. Besides, with him gone, it leaves less room for awkward speculation, so there’s that.
My father leads me to his office. That in itself is a bit strange. I’ve never spent much time in here. Never been welcomed into this part of his world. It’s stuffy and dark—all mahogany, rich burgundy, and tufted leather. Priceless artifacts—hand-crafted and custom-made. There’s an old library musk in the space, swirling with spices. It’s refined but more old school than Wells’s style, in the outdated sense. Wells somehow encompasses the Rat Pack vibe while also appearing relevant. It’s odd how his and Ivy’s house feels like my home now. How they all feel like home—Ty and Gage too.
And Liam. Especially Liam.
I realize that even more now that we’re separated. Minutes apart, and I’ve never felt emptier.
