NICHOLAS'S POV
The house still reeked of smoke and disinfectant.
Blood had been scrubbed from the marble floors, but the stains stayed in my head. Too many names already carved into the ledger of the dead.
Too many ghosts pacing these halls.
I sat in my office, shirt discarded over the back of the chair. Bandages tugged against my ribs each time I leaned forward over the papers scattered across my desk.
Family ledgers. Shipments dispatched. Dead men's duties redistributed.
The scotch in my hand didn't burn enough.
Carlos was on his way to retrieve Irene from her bolthole. Respectfully. I wanted to look her in the eyes before I put a bullet in her.
The click of my office door opening drew my attention.
Not Carlos.
Not a maid.
Her.
Simone slipped inside
