Rage flashed across Hersh’s face so fast it scared me.
Not loud rage.
Worse.
Controlled rage.
The kind soldiers carried.
Wolf shoved Vaughn harder into the floor.
“Start talking.”
Vaughn winced but still smiled through it.
“You’re already dead.”
My stomach twisted violently.
Because he sounded certain.
Not like he was bluffing.
Certain.
Hersh looked over his shoulder at me briefly.
And the second his eyes met mine?—
he knew.
“You know him.”
It wasn’t a question.
I swallowed hard.
“He was there.”
Silence crashed through the tavern.
Ava slowly turned toward me.
“What?”
Tears burned instantly behind my eyes.
Because I hadn’t talked about that night.
Not really.
Not fully.
Michael knew pieces.
The FBI knew facts.
But facts weren’t the same as memories.
