Damien sat in the dimly lit room, the weight of four days pressing heavily on his chest. He knew he had been wrong to disappear without a word, to leave Gwen alone. But there had been no choice.
Four days of hunting had finally brought him clarity.
His hand clenched around the stem of his wine glass as Jace stood silently in the corner, watching his boss unravel piece by piece. Damien’s jaw worked, his dark eyes narrowing at the stack of files spread across the table.
“After all these years,” Damien muttered, his voice low, edged with fury, “I finally know who killed my father.”
Jace took a hesitant step forward. “Boss?”
Damien lifted the glass to his lips, swallowed hard, then hurled it against the mirror with a violent crack. The shards scattered across the marble floor, and his ref
