Lara-Jean POV
“Before we start, understand something,” Marcus Cole said, resting both hands on the scarred conference table. “If we do this, there’s no going back.”
Peter answered before I could.
“Good.”
The word landed hard in the small room.
I studied Marcus’s office and tried to reconcile it with the man standing in front of us.
No windows. Fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead. Folding chairs around a battered conference table that looked like it had survived several wars. A dented coffee maker sat on a filing cabinet in the corner.
This was not what I expected from one of the most feared investigators in the city.
But the people around the table made the room feel heavier than marble.
Marcus gestured to the woman sitting to his right.
“Maria Santos,” he said. “Retired
