the cartel…he still asked me that, like my feelings mattered.
“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly.
Lightning flashed again.
Hersh’s jaw tightened briefly as he glanced toward me.
“We don’t stay long.”
I nodded.
But deep down?
I already knew this wasn’t going to be simple.
Nothing about tonight had been simple.
The second the house came into view, my stomach twisted violently.
Small white farmhouse.
Wraparound porch.
Dark windows.
The porch swing Dad used to sit on every evening after dinner still moved slightly in the wind.
God.
For one terrible second I almost expected him to walk outside.
Alive.
Holding coffee.
Telling me the storm was getting worse.
Pain punched straight through my chest.
Hersh parked near the porch but didn’t immediately kill the engine.
Rain pounded the roof.
Neither of us moved.
Then quietly?—
“Flick.”
I looked at him.
His expression softened instantly.
“You don’t have to do this tonight.”
Yes.
I did.
