The memory was of Marcus in the underground garage before the championship game, face pale with desperation and calculation. Rain dripping from the concrete ceiling. His voice low, fast, urgent.
I need out.
You owe my future nothing, Vale.
Maybe not. But I know something about Vaughn.
I had walked away the first time.
He had followed.
Then he had said Elise’s name.
My hands curled again.
Marcus continued. “The deal was simple. You make it look brutal. I get my exit. Richard gets Isla frightened enough to stop clinging to her little clinic dream and come into the company where she belongs. You get silence.”
“I got nothing.”
“You got Vaughn kept out of prison.”
The words landed like a gunshot.
For a second, the parking area became too bright.
Marcus’s smile faded into something
