Kingston
Cora looked like hell.
I’d been watching her all morning from my office door, pretending to read over quarterly forecasts while she typed at her desk.
She wasn’t herself.
Her posture was tense, and she hadn’t made eye contact with anyone. Not even with me.
And that worried me.
It wasn’t just because I relied on her more than I cared to admit, or because her absence made everything feel off-kilter—which had been more than proven true recently. It was because I knew something was wrong. I could sense it in her scent, the stress, anxiety, grief all tangled together under her skin.
I gave it until lunch before I acted.
“Cora,” I said softly, appearing at her side without warning. She startled a little, then looked up at me with wide, tired eyes. “Come with me. Please.”
S
