Ryland and Luca say they also need to leave.
They start gathering their things, stretching and complaining like they haven’t been sitting on luxurious furniture for half the day. I walk them to the door. Ryland is first. I give him a quick hug before he leaves.
“Text if you need anything, K,” he murmurs before heading down the driveway.
Luca is next. He squeezes me a little tighter than usual before letting go.
Harper lingers in the doorway before pulling me into a full-body bear hug. When she finally eases back, she doesn’t let go of my arms, keeping me in her grip.
“Call me,” she says, her eyes locking with mine. “Every day. I don’t care if it’s boring. Even if it’s just to tell me what you ate, how the sex with Elias is… everything. I want to hear it.”
My throat tightens slightly before I nod the promise. “I will.”
“I love you,” she says, pulling me into one last hug before letting go.
“I love you too,” I call after her as she walks down the driveway.
I close the door behind me and stand there for a moment. I smile to myself as the quiet settles back into the house. The house feels bigger and emptier without them here, but my chest is so full it’s almost painful.
I gather the coffee cups and drift back into the kitchen. I rinse the empty mugs one by one before slotting them into the entirely too large dishwasher. Seriously, it’s only Elias who lives here. Why does he need a dishwasher this big? The realization hits me that I live here too. I smile to myself as I turn off the faucet, leaning against the marble countertop.
The doorbell rings.
I let out a snort, shaking my head as I make my way to the door. “What did you forget this time?” I call out.
I pull it open.
Nothing.
The porch is empty. No Harper. No Ryland. No Luca. Just the quiet driveway.
Confusion barely has time to register before pain shoots up the side of my neck. I let out a gasp, fingers flying up far too late. The world tilts violently on its axis.
The ground rushes up to meet me before my body gives out completely.
Forty-Eight
Elias
You’re Going Down – SICK PUPPIES
Ikeep my eyes trained on the road, hands steady at the wheel of the Porsche. I press the gas pedal a little harder and weave through the heavy Bridgeport traffic. Red brake lights stretch endlessly ahead of me, like a river of glowing frustration snaking through the city. I press the gas a little harder, sliding between two cars before the lane closes again.
I hated leaving her. The feeling sat low and heavy in my stomach as I pulled out of my driveway earlier and hasn’t settled since. Business called at Headstone, and that’s the last place Kat needs to be right now. Not with too many variables in play.
Although the timing couldn’t have been fucking worse.
The police had shown up at midday as soon as the place opened for cleaning. They had full uniforms, warrants, the whole fucking circus. Flashing lights outside the front like a fucking parade. They claimed they’d received a tip about illegal substances on the premises. Of course, they couldn’t find a damn thing. Not in my fucking bar. But that didn’t stop them from tearing through the place, anyway. Still, I couldn’t leave it to my men alone, I had to go. Appearances matter. Presence matters. If people see the boss standing calm in the middle of chaos, they stop worrying.
When I arrived, the detective in charge was one on my payroll. Luckily. I really didn’t need to be dealing with bureaucratic bullshit today. Jerry pulled me aside, his voice full of apology, said he knew it was bullshit, he’d known before he walked into the place they wouldn’t find a damn thing. Not a single crystal. But a tip is a tip, and paperwork needed boxes ticking. The whole thing lasted an hour and a half before they packed up and left my cleaning crew to clean up their mess.
Raids aren’t uncommon for Headstone, but the timing felt off.
And then there’s Owen.
Silent for days. No sightings. No word. No movement. Nothing. It’s like he’s vanished, disappeared into thin fucking air.
My jaw tightens as the traffic finally thins and the road opens up ahead of me. My phone vibrates against the center console. I don’t look at it—whoever it is can wait. I just need to get home to her. The Porsche glides through the security gate as it opens, the iron bars sliding smoothly apart. The houses here sit far back from the road, hidden behind trees and stone walls, providing the ultimate privacy in this suburban hell.
