Page 102 of Cold Mercy

“No one is sleeping in the damn living room,” he says, nudging a door open across from the room Elizabeth showed me. “You take this one,” he tells me gently before he turns to Thomas. “And you take the one right next to it. For now. If more guests show up, we’ll reshuffle everything.”

James says it casually and walks away, but I can feel the weight of Thomas's eyes on me for a long moment before he turns and disappears into the room beside mine without a word. It's a silent, loaded glance, and I pointedly refuse to let myself think about what it means.

Everyone else spreads out, dragging luggage and laughing about who’s already called dibs on the room with the view of the lake. Someone shouts down the hallway asking where the wine is, and the whole house begins to warm with the sound of people settling in.

When I close the door of my room behind me, something inside me loosens. Maybe it’s the first time in months that I don’t feel the weight of Cold Spring pressing on my ribs. I change into something simple for dinner and catch myself smiling at my own reflection, a small, genuine smile that doesn’t feel forced. Not because Thomas is here. God, no. But this week belongs to James and Elizabeth, and for the first time since everything fell apart, I’m genuinely excited to celebrate something good.

CHAPTER 26

THOMAS

“You were right. You should go.”

No preamble, no soft landing. In her mind, the last three months proved I’ve ‘finally returned to the real Thomas,’ the version she understands.

The version that obeys, that doesn’t fall for the woman he was meant to investigate. For the past 3 months, Grace has been punishing me by making me work undercover for some pawn from the city's underworld.

“Calloway’s firm is growing,” she says. “The access you have there is too valuable to throw away. It could be an asset for future operations, and it would be a waste to burn almost three years of work just because you are restless. Go to the wedding, keep the bridge intact.”

She talks like she’s rewarding a dog who finally stopped biting.

I nod, keeping my voice flat enough to pass.

“Cover’s handled,” I say. “They’ll probably assume I spent the week on a bender with escorts or blacked out somewhere. They won't ask questions when I am back.”

Grace’s mouth twitches, not quite a smile, more like approval coated in judgment.

“Just don’t do anything stupid, Thomas.”

Silence settles between us, and I fight the urge to just walk away from all of it. Aurora already stole years of my life, and Grace stole the rest, thinking she owns my loyalty simply because she was the one holding the leash.

She breaks the silence first.

“We’re reviewing field assignments. If the team clears it, you’ll be reinstated this month. Full duty, no more undercover scraps.”

The way she says it makes something inside me twist.

“Good to hear,” I force out.

She stands, dismissing me the way she always has. “See you soon.”

✽✽✽

The lake house is too beautiful for its own good. Of course it is. Elizabeth has taste, and James would hand her the moon if she asked. Cars fill the long gravel driveway, and one of them is hers.

I sit in my car for a moment longer, palms pressed to the steering wheel, forcing myself to breathe evenly. She’ll be here. She’ll be close. For the first time since that night. I get out before I convince myself to turn around.

Another car pulls up beside mine, forcing me toward the entrance. Voices drift from the porch, James laughing, Elizabeth correcting him, and then… her. The sound of her. Softer than I remember, or maybe I’m just starved for it.

She stands between them, her hair tucked behind one ear, lit by the soft gold of the lights.

Her eyes...they're still haunted. They hold the same deep-seated sadness I've seen from my car, parked down the street from her house, watching the lights in her window burn late into the night. It's the exhaustion of a woman who spends her days at a gun range and her nights sleepless.

And she is still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

It’s different seeing her up close. Not a silhouette in a window or a figure climbing out of a car. Here, under the soft lights, I can see the faint shadows under her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw.

Then her eyes lift. For a second, they brighten, and for that same second, I let myself believe she’s looking at me.