Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Her shoulders sag a fraction. “I hate this.”
“I know,” I say.
She pulls her wrist free slowly, not yanking, and paces two steps before stopping. Her hands curl into fists at her sides. “Blackmail,” she says, spitting the word like poison. “So the corporation is that scared.”
“They should be,” I say. “Your story is real. And it hurts them.”
Rowan turns back to me. “What happens now?”
“Cal’s team gathers evidence,” I say. “They secure your boss, secure the leverage file, and build a clean case. Then we decide what gets published and when.”
Rowan’s eyes sharpen. “We publish.”
“Yes,” I agree. “But we do it smart. Not emotional.”
She exhales hard, then nods once. “Fine. Smart.”
I pick up my phone again. “I need to call Nash. Update him. If this isn’t tied to our family case, it matters. It changes how we move.”
Rowan watches me, still pale, but steadier now. “Tell him to be careful.”
“I will.”
I step toward the kitchen for a bit of quiet and dial.
Nash answers immediately. “Sin.”
“We got confirmation on Rowan’s case,” I say. “It’s not random. It’s her workplace.”
Nash’s voice sharpens. “Inside job.”
“Yes. Editor in chief. He pushed spyware to her phone through internal systems. He’s being blackmailed by the corporation she’s investigating. Corporate security contractor handled intimidation.”
There’s a pause on the line, then Nash exhales. “That’s dirty.”
“Blackmail makes people stupid,” I say.
“It does. So, we’re moving on a lead tomorrow morning,” Nash tells me. “The Charleston box turned into a name. Not Dad yet, but someone tied to Shaw’s old network. A Laurel Pike. Some sheriff out west. We’re going early.”
My gut tightens. “Be careful.”
Nash gives a low grunt. “Always.”
“Don’t underestimate them,” I say. “If Shaw’s involved, this isn’t some sloppy op.”
“I know,” Nash says. “You holding up.”
I glance back into the living room. Rowan stands by the couch, arms wrapped around herself, staring at nothing. She looks furious and wounded at the same time. Like betrayal has teeth. And she looks so damn brave it hurts. “I’m good,” I tell Nash, because the alternative is admitting I’m not sure how to keep her safe from a man she trusted. “I’ll keep you posted if anything changes.”
“Copy,” Nash says. “And Sin.”
“What?”
“Stay on mission,” he says, and I can hear the meaning behind it.
Don’t fall.
Don’t get distracted.
Don’t let her become your weakness.
I swallow once. “Always.”
I end the call and stand there for a moment, phone still in my hand, staring at the quiet kitchen. The safe house hums softly around me. The night outside is calm, which feels like a lie. When I walk back into the living room, Rowan looks up. Her eyes are glossy, but her chin is lifted.
“Are we really staying put?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say.
She lets out a breath that shakes once, then steadies. “Okay.”
I step closer. “We’re going to get justice for this. But we’re not doing it by handing ourselves to him.”
Rowan nods, jaw tight. “I want to write it all. Every detail. I want to burn him down with ink.”
My mouth tightens. “You will. When it’s safe.”
She looks at me, and there’s a flash of something vulnerable. “I feel stupid.”
“You’re not,” I say, firmly.
“I trusted him.”
“You trusted someone who built a career on appearing trustworthy,” I say. “That doesn’t make you stupid. It makes him dangerous.”
Rowan’s throat moves. “And now what?”
Now the hard part, I think. Now we wait, again, except this time the monster has a face she knows. I reach for her hand, slow, giving her the choice. She takes it, fingers gripping mine like she needs something solid. “We hold,” I say. “We let Cal close the trap. And we stay alive.”
Rowan nods once, eyes burning. “Okay.”
We stand there in the quiet, hands locked, both of us aware that everything just changed. The threat isn’t a shadow anymore. It’s someone she admired. And if he was willing to sell her out to save himself, then he’s going to be willing to do worse when he realizes he’s cornered.
TWELVE
ROWAN
I wake up warm. That’s the first thing I notice, before my brain can catch up to reality. Warmth at my back, a solid arm draped over my waist, a slow steady breath at the nape of my neck.
Sin.
My body settles into it like it’s always belonged there. Which is terrifying. Because I’m not supposed to be the woman who falls in love in the middle of a threat assessment. I’m supposed to be the woman who writes the threat assessment, names names, and publishes it with a bow. But the last few days have done something to me. The safe house. The drills. The way he watches the world like he’s decided it won’t get to touch me. The way he touched me like he was starving and still found the strength to stop when he needed to.
My chest aches in that quiet way that isn’t fear. It’s wanting.