(Liam Romano's POV)
The air in the underground parking garage smelled of fuel, dampness, and fear. The latter scent, intense and sweet, emanated from Silas Morrow, who was leaning against his black sedan as if his legs refused to hold him up. The scene was almost pathetic: the powerful banker reduced to a bundle of nerves and sweat. Beside me, Hailey breathed with a calmness that contrasted sharply with the man's panic. Her presence here was no accident—she was a key piece in the plan I had devised.
"Silas Morrow," I said, my voice echoing metallically in the half-empty space.
He jerked upright, as if electrocuted. His eyes, red and wild, fell first on me, then on Hailey. The confusion was instantaneous. He had surely expected to find only me, not the woman whose husband had been murder
