Ryan's POV
Ryan’s pulse was still hammering by the time he slid behind the wheel of his black sedan, slamming the door himself and yanking the engine to life. The car lurched into the city’s restless traffic, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
The flashes of the reporters’ cameras hadn’t faded from his vision. Each burst of light had burned itself into his retinas, followed by the echo of Steven Reynolds’ voice: What did you do to my daughter, Ryan? Did you silence her to be free of her?
Murder.
That was what the world was going to believe.
Ryan’s grip tightened, tendons straining beneath his skin. He wanted to rip Steven apart. The man was cunning, playing his crocodile tears for the cameras, using public sympathy like a weapon. And the worst part was, people would buy i
