CHAPTER 26: THE CLUBHOUSE
My apartment looked exactly the way I'd left it four days ago, which somehow made it worse — the same chipped mug in the sink, the same jacket thrown over the back of a kitchen chair, evidence of an ordinary life that had ended the moment a wrecked motorcycle rolled onto my flatbed. Ronan swept the space first, methodical and silent, before finally nodding me through the door.
"Nobody's been here," he said. "No forced entry, no signs of a search. Whatever's hunting you, they either don't know this address, or they're waiting for you to lead them to something more valuable first."
I lingered in the doorway a moment longer than necessary, taking in the ordinary clutter of a life that felt, suddenly, like it belonged to someone else entirely — a version of me who'
