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There were also no antiques that she could see, which surprised her, considering how many years he’d been alive—she would have thought he’d have kept some of his possessions over the years, inadvertently building a collection of antiques. Apparently, Tanner preferred the contemporary look. Or maybe he just kept his apartment so modern and moved with the times because he felt it helped him blend better.

Surrounded by so much opulence, style, and elegance, she should have felt somewhat shabby and self-conscious. Honestly, she was too tired to fret about it.

Walking into the living area, Devon felt her brows lift. God, he hadn’t been kidding when he said there was a bunch of people here. In addition to those he’d already mentioned, there was Martina, Beck, Knox, Richie, Levi, Larkin, and Keenan.

All eyes flicked Devon’s way, and their conversations halted. Then the room pretty much descended on her. She smiled as they told her how glad they were that she was okay, blah, blah, blah. But there were only so many hugs, cheek-kisses, and back-pats she could deal with before she found herself snarling. “Apparently, we’ve forgotten that I don’t like being crowded.”

Harper snorted. “Dork.”

Gertie rested a hand on Devon’s back. “How about some tea?”

“No, thanks, Mom,” she replied. “I just had coffee.”

Adam scrubbed a hand down his face. “Shit, Devon, I can’t deal with any more of this you-almost-getting-taken crap.” His gaze slid to Tanner. “Looks like your mark wasn’t enough to deter people from going after her. Nor was the sight of her four guards.”

“There’ll always be people who’ll do stupid things for money,” said Tanner.

Martina sidled closer to her. “How’s your demon, sweetie?”

“It’s sulking because it didn’t get a chance to join in on the fun,” Devon replied.

Richie rolled his eyes. “Typical.”

“Yeah,” Devon agreed. Too tired to stand, she sank so deeply into the sofa that her body practically conformed to its shape. The spacious room was just as luxurious as the bedroom with its lush three-piece leather suite, heavy drapes, super-wide TV, and solid oak furnishings.

“Damn, you look ready to drop,” said Harper. “You can crash in one of my spare bedrooms when we get back to my place.”

Devon could only stare at the sphinx. “Huh?”

“You’re staying with me and Knox until all this has blown over,” Harper told her in a tone that said obviously.

Panic tightened Devon’s throat at the mere idea of leading her shit to her friend’s doorstep. “You know I can’t stay with you, Harper.”

“You can and you will.”

Adam cut in, “You’re better off staying with me and Hunter.”

Oh, hell no, Devon wasn’t risking them either. “I’m going home.”

Harper’s face scrunched up. “Surely that’s the last place you’d want to be right now.”

Devon frowned. “Why? It’s my home.”

Harper’s eyes flicked to Tanner. “You didn’t tell her?”

He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Forgot to mention it.”

“Mention what?” Uneasy, Devon straightened in her seat. “What don’t I know?”

Everyone looked at Raini, who bit her lower lip and said, “God, I hate being the bearer of bad news.” She tucked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. “Harper said you’d be staying with her for a few days, so I went to your place to pack you a bag and … well, someone had ransacked the apartment.”

Devon blinked. “Ransacked it?”

“Well, not all of it,” said Raini. “The destruction was confined to the living room. I’m talking an unreasonable amount of destruction. Ribbons of the shredded curtains were scattered all over the room. The TV was smashed to shit. I don’t know what the intruder used to go to work on your sofa, but it was in three pieces, and the stuffing from the upholstery was everywhere. All your pictures were pulled down from the walls. The coffee table … it almost looked like someone had karate-chopped it. I don’t know what they took with them when they left, though. I’m so sorry, Dev.”

Stomach hardening, Devon swallowed. Devastation, anger, and shock pumped through her blood, fighting for supremacy. Someone had not only broken into her home, they’d wrecked her living room and probably stolen some of her things. It was just stuff; she knew that. Stuff could be replaced. And it wasn’t as if the furniture had been worth shit. But, dammit, they’d been hers.

“I called Jolene, and she sent Ciaran to me,” Raini went on. “He snapped some pictures with his cell and then teleported us both out of there. Show her, Ciaran.”

Digging his phone out of his pocket, the male imp crossed to Devon. “They’re not pretty.”

As she skimmed through the collection of photos he’d taken of her apartment, Devon ground her teeth. “Motherfucker.”

“The damage seemed personal to me,” said Ciaran. “Vindictive. It’s like someone had a brief explosion of anger and then managed to get ahold of themselves.”

“I’ll have someone clean the place, Devon,” said Jolene. “In the meantime, you can’t stay there.”

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