Unless Drake had suddenly become a complete fool. Lombard doubted that. There was no way he hadn’t already connected the dots. No way. His father-in-law was involved. At the very least, involved in enough ugly things to make any reasonable person suspicious.And yet Drake kept talking as though everything was fine. As though nothing had changed. There was nothing wrong with Drake loving his wife. Nothing wrong with appreciating the family that had welcomed him. But the harder he tried to convince everyone that everything was normal, the more obvious it became that he was trying to convince himself.Lombard could see it. The cracks. The fear. The denial. But he had already pushed Drake far enough tonight. There were limits to how much a person could process in one sitting, and Drake had reached his limit hours ago. So Lombard kept his mouth shut.“Oops.” Drake groaned as soon as he landed on the other side of the fence. “That was a terrible idea.” He rubbed his lower back. “I think thi

Mireya didn’t want to admit what she was feeling. Unfortunately, refusing to admit something had never stopped it from existing.She was trying very hard to hold herself together. Very hard. But Rowan’s words from earlier kept replaying inside her head. The anger. The disappointment. The way he had left. And if she was being honest with herself, part of the reason everything had spiraled this far was Lombard. The breakup. The chaos afterward. The way everything seemed to keep getting worse. And now Rowan had gotten caught in the middle of it.The call continued ringing. At first, she was certain Lombard wasn’t going to answer. Then, just as it was about to disconnect, the line connected.Mireya immediately spoke. “The Holy One is very angry with you right now.”Lombard sighed loudly on the other end. “And it is long past time for you to stop acting like a child.”“Oh,” his voice was completely unimpressed. “Mireya.” A pause. “You didn’t call me to tell me that nonsense, did you?”Mire

Just like that.Mireya stared at the screen. The silence suddenly felt enormous. This entire conversation had gone wrong. She had called to ask about Rowan. That was supposed to be the purpose. The entire reason. Yet somehow the call had ended without her getting a proper answer.And now she was angry. Not because of Rowan. Because of Alice. Which was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. The thought annoyed her immediately. Why should she care about Alice? Or Abigail? Or any woman Lombard happened to be spending time with? The answer was obvious. She didn’t. Absolutely didn’t. Not even a little.She stared at the phone, then frowned. Because the more she repeated that answer, the less convincing it sounded.A loud knock suddenly hit the door. Mireya blinked, then looked around the room. Her eyes widened. The morning prayers. She was supposed to have started them already. Instead, she had spent all this time thinking about Lombard. Thinking about the conversation. Thinking about the things

Lombard had stopped by Sylvie’s apartment. She had still been a mess when he left her the previous night, so he came back to check on her. Not because it was any of his business. It absolutely wasn’t. Unfortunately, there was still a part of him that cared about things he had no business caring about. One of those things happened to be whatever emotional disaster Sylvie was currently dealing with.He rang the bell once. Only once. A few seconds later, the apartment door opened. Lombard stepped inside.The place looked exactly like the kind of apartment someone like Sylvie would own. Expensive. Ridiculously expensive. The building itself sat inside one of the most secure residential complexes in New York. The kind where random people didn’t just wander in. Celebrities loved places like this. The security alone was worth millions. Lombard still wore a face cap. Old habits.Sylvie was sitting on a couch, wrapped in an oversized hoodie, her hair completely out of control, like she had s

The hitman was already raising the metal rod. A clean shot. Directly toward Lombard’s head.Lombard saw it immediately. Unfortunately, if he simply dodged, Sylvie would likely end up taking the hit. And that sounded like paperwork. Too much paperwork. So instead, he grabbed her, pulled her down with him. The two of them crashed onto the couch. The rod cut through empty air.The hitman froze. Not because he had missed. Because Lombard had reacted. Properly. Instantly. The man’s expression shifted, a tiny frown appearing. For years he had practiced. Perfecting timing. Perfecting strikes. Perfecting movement. Missing wasn’t what bothered him. The reaction did. Because if Lombard could read that attack so easily, then either the hitman wasn’t as good as he thought, or Lombard was much better than expected. Neither answer sat well with him.The man stepped closer, raised his hand. A testing motion. Nothing more. Lombard didn’t react. Not even slightly. That somehow made things worse. T