Reid leaned back in his chair, boots propped up on the table, the glow of the desk lamp cutting through the darkened room of the Vultures’ clubhouse. His men had long since quieted for the night, either drowning in whiskey or in the arms of their chosen companions. But Reid wasn’t interested in distraction. He had been waiting.
When the buzz of his burner phone cut through the silence, a grin stretched across his face. He already knew who it was.
Cordelia.
The woman Ash couldn’t stay away from. His precious adopted sister.
Reid pressed play, and the first sound that filled the room was her voice—soft, trembling at first, but clear enough. The recording was long, clearly captured without the knowledge of the people she was with. And as it played, Reid leaned forward, elbows on his knees
