(Emery’s POV)
The silence after Wyatt’s threat wasn’t peace.
It was the drumroll before a shot.
For two days, the lake house was quiet. Too quiet.
James stood watch outside. Luca barely slept. Emery felt the tension under her skin like static — a warning that never left.
And then, just after noon on the third day, Luca got the call.
⸻
“Another tape,” James said, holding up his burner phone. “Different location. A drop in the city. Could be the final piece.”
Emery’s gut twisted. “You’re not going alone.”
“I’ll go with him,” James offered. “I know how they operate.”
Luca kissed Emery’s forehead, gently resting his palm on the swell of her belly. “I’ll be back in an hour. Lock the doors. No one gets in but me.”
She nodded.
But something inside her pulled tight.
Like goodbye.
⸻
