The desert night was unnaturally still, the kind of silence that made the wind feel like it was holding its breath.
Lucy felt it before she heard it.
The faint crunch of gravel beneath boots outside her hidden apothecary. Her fingers paused over a bowl of burning herbs, her skin prickling with warning. She turned slowly just as the door creaked open.
And there he was.
Jack.
Impeccably dressed in a dark suit despite the dust and heat, his presence filled the small shop like a thundercloud. His eyes—cold, sharp, and gleaming with cruel purpose—swept the room before settling on her.
“Lucy,” he drawled. “It’s been too long.”
Lucy didn’t flinch. She merely exhaled and turned back to her herbs. “I figured you’d show up eventually. Blood like hers doesn’t stay hidden for long.”
Jack stepp
