Chapter Seventeen
Clara sat in one of the deep, plush armchairs in the foyer of Goldstein Industries’ office, her head propped up on one hand, her eyes stubbornly drifting shut no matter how hard she tried to keep them open.
Lukas sat opposite her, his injured leg stretched out in front of him, his crutches neatly placed on either side of his chair. His head was thrown back against the soft cushions, and his eyes were shut.
They were not speaking to each other.
It was almost one in the afternoon and they’d found only one more flagon. It had been Lukas’s idea to check Cas’s favourite daytime haunts. They’d visited his club, his favourite tailor’s shop, the grocery shop near his old house, and— it seemed—an infinite number of other places and had found nothing.
Clara hadn’t been in favo
