The house was quiet, too quiet for Riley’s liking. She slipped through the front door, pulling her hood back and toeing off her boots, praying that Marcus had already gone to bed. But the dim light in the living room told her otherwise.
Where were you?
Riley froze at the sound of his voice. Marcus was seated in the armchair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the lamp casting sharp shadows across his face. His eyes locked on her, cold and unblinking.
“I was… out,” she said carefully, trying not to sound guilty.
“Out where?” His tone sharpened.
Riley swallowed, forcing a small shrug. “With Sam. We just needed some air. It’s been… a long week.
Marcus leaned forward, setting his glass down on the table with a deliberate clink. “Don’t lie to me, Riley. I know you weren’t with Sam.
Her hear
