The kitchen was quiet except for the ticking of the old wall clock. Riley sat at the table with her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had gone cold. She had not touched it, just stared into the surface as though it could give her answers.
The door creaked open. Marcus stepped in, his presence filling the room the way it always did. He looked tired, lines carved deeper into his face, but his eyes still burned with the sharpness of a man who demanded obedience.
Riley,” he said, his voice calm but edged. “We need to talk.
Her stomach tightened. She forced her voice steady. “About what?
Marcus pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, his movements slow, deliberate. Do not play games with me. I know where your head has been lately. And I know who has put those thoughts there.
