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I turned on him then. “I did look. I looked right at her while she told me to let her go.”

“And now?” he asked quietly. “What are you seeing now?”

The question hung between us.

I thought about the glass. Her hand pressed against it, resting over mine. The hesitation. The fear flickering across her face.

My jaw tightened.

“I don’t know,” I admitted finally, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.

And that was the problem.

Not knowing.

Because I could deal with her choosing him. I’d been dealing with it for years.

But this—this grey area where nothing made sense—this was worse. So much worse.

Dante watched me for a second longer, then leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.

“We don’t move on this yet,” he said, his tone firm. “Not until we know what we’re dealing with.”

I didn’t respond. Because knowing or not knowing didn’t change one thing. I couldn’t leave it alone now. Not after this.

Not after last night.

Not after the possibility—however small—that I’d got it wrong.

Chapter 17

Vienna

Now

By the time the compound had settled into something resembling silence, the earlier laughter in the bar felt like it had belonged to a different lifetime. The tables had been wiped down, the stools pushed back beneath the counter, and the low golden glow from the lamps cast long shadows across the room, softening the edges of everything but not quite touching the heaviness hanging in the air.

Dante sat at one end of the couch with his elbows resting on his knees, a bottle of beer hanging loose between his hands, whilst Rachel curled into the opposite corner with Trex asleep against her chest, his little body tucked into the curve of her as though he had simply found the nearest warm place and burrowed in without question.

There was something about the sight that tugged at memories long since buried, and I found myself looking away before I’d fully understood why. I dropped into the armchair opposite them, stretching my legs out in front of me, the remains of my hangover still lingering behind my eyes, though the edgehad long since been dulled by the conversation in the office and everything that had followed.

Trex stirred slightly in Rachel’s arms, making a small sleepy sound before settling again, his fist clutching the front of her top in a way that suggested this had become familiar to him far too quickly.

Rachel lowered her gaze to him instinctively, brushing the hair back from his forehead with a tenderness that made the whole scene ache. She looked exhausted, though she would never admit it, and there was a tension around her mouth that hadn’t eased all evening. Dante saw it too. Dante saw everything, even when he pretended not to, but for once he didn’t try to smooth the moment over with a joke or brush it aside as something to be handled later.

We had all already learnt that grief had no respect for timing. It came when it pleased, sat where it wanted, and made itself at home whether you invited it in or not.

“How is she?” I asked eventually, my voice sounding too loud in the quiet, even though I’d pitched it low.

Rachel’s fingers stilled briefly against Trex’s hair before she resumed the soft, repetitive movement. “Still asleep,” she said. “Or passed out. Depends how generous we’re feeling.”

“She seemed okay tonight.”

“She always seems okay. But buried beneath that tough exterior is a woman whose life has been shattered. She found her way into the garage stash this evening,” she sighed, glancing at Trex to make sure he was still sleeping, though he was too young to understand what this all meant.

“Shit,” I breathed, sitting back in the chair and running my hand through my beard. “Who left it there?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rachel shrugged. “What matters is Jenna found it, and now she’s… well, she’s sleeping it off.”