THE TRAINING barn always smelled of dust, sweat, and gun oil, but tonight it carried something sharper—something that prickled under Jeremiah Veyne’s skin the moment Lily Brook stepped inside and shut the door behind her.
Anger.
Not at him. Not even at Ronan.
At the truth they’d dug up last night in that cursed cabin—the map, the initials, the burned evidence. Jeremiah could see it simmering beneath her usually careful composure. Lily rarely let herself feel in front of anyone, but tonight her walls were cracked, leaking heat.
And Jeremiah, i***t that he was, had agreed to train her anyway.
He rolled the stiffness out of his shoulders. “You sure you’re up for this?”
Lily brushed past him, chin raised, ponytail slicing the air behind her. “I said I wanted to train, didn’t I?”
She kep
