Things have been strangely quiet since Jake’s—Andrew’s—warning. The Headless Angels hadn’t made a move in days, and while most of the gang felt uneasy with the silence, Andrew knew better.
They were planning something.
Back at the house, Katherine stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the trees sway under the early evening breeze. Things had been peaceful lately, too peaceful. Andrew hadn’t been hostile, and she hadn’t asked questions. But something inside her kept buzzing—an instinct that something dark was coming.
She turned away from the window, her hand brushing the scar on her arm. The images still came in flashes—Madam Lu’s blood, the sound of gunfire, Thompson’s laugh. And Andrew… as Jake. She didn’t know the full truth yet, but she was getting close.
Just as she picked up
