Fallon
The second I walked through the door, I knew something was off.
It was in the quiet—the kind of heavy, expectant silence that only meant trouble.
Reid was waiting for me in the living room, standing beside the coffee table like some kind of brooding statue. His arms were crossed, his expression blank, but the tension rolling off him was impossible to miss.
And then I saw it.
A thick stack of legal documents, sitting right there on the table.
I stopped dead in my tracks, a sharp, uneasy weight settling in my stomach. “What is that?”
Reid exhaled slowly, like he was preparing for a battle. “Sit down.”
“Not happening.” I crossed my arms. “What’s going on?”
He hesitated—hesitated—which immediately sent every alarm in my body blaring.
And then he said it.
“There’s been an upda
