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The ache hit before I could stop it—sharp, sudden, blooming outward from somewhere I didn’t visit anymore. My shoulders curled around it instinctively. Breath caught in my throat and stayed there.

That. I thought. That’s what it’d feel like.

I swallowed once. Then again. Harder the second time and scanned the rest of the room. More of them talking. More of them leaning in. Bethany wasn’t the only one. They all could. Every single one of them could have that.

I picked up my glass and drank like it’d somehow help.

But it didn’t.

Nothing did.

I set my glass down and slipped toward the hallway before anyone could hand me another crisis to hold. The music followed me—strings low and insistent until I rounded the corner and they faded a little at least.

The corridor was empty. Quiet in a way the room wasn’t. One that had weight to it. I craved that more than anything. One long exhale and I pressed my hand to the wall. I should leave, slip out unnoticed. Maybe I could ask Guild for one of his men to drive me back home?

The idea gathered momentum and with it relief.

Yes.

That’s what I’ll do.

Pee…and then leave.

The corridor was quieter than it should’ve been. I didn’t know why my mind caught on that. Only that it did. I lowered my hand and headed for the bathroom, walking away.

4

ALARIC

“The Cerberus brothers are at London’s gathering as well? Is everyone there, how the fuck am I supposed get anything done?”

Rafe’s voice cut sharper than usual.

Too loud.

Too exposed.

I didn’t turn.

Didn’t need to.

I could hear it in him—the tension, the shift in his breathing, the way his weight leaned forward like he was already preparing for something he didn’t trust.

London St. James.

A gathering.

One I hadn’t been told about.

Silence pressed in around the words. That wasn’t like him. London didn’t move pieces without making sure I knew where they were placed. Which meant it wasn’t a mistake.

A twitch pulled at the corner of my mouth. I turned around and moved. Five steps to the doorway. Three to the hall. Thirty-five to the east wing. Warmth caressed my arm as I passed the south-facing window. The sun not as warm now. The days grew short. Soon this house would be colder…again.

I didn’t need to see it to know the days were getting shorter.

My fingers worked the buttons of my shirt. I unbuckled my belt and slipped the garment free before placing it on the dresser. My fingers slipped along fabric until I stopped, pulled the pressed white shirt free. Colors aligned in numbers, fabrics grouped by use. If London wanted a gathering, then I’d be there. Not as a guest, or an ally. But as the thing he forgot to account for.

Trousers. Belt. I skimmed the polished boots, pulling them on, zipping them tight. Cool air brushed my collarbones. My fingers dragged through my hair once before I move to the bathroom. One spray of cologne. Enough. Then I walked out.