Arianna's POV
The car ride was silent.
Not the comfortable kind, the kind that pressed against my chest, filling every space with things unsaid.
Killian’s hands were steady on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. I watched him from the corner of my vision, trying—and failing to read his thoughts. After everything that had happened, I had no idea what he was thinking. Or what he was going to do.
The city lights blurred past the windows. I was still wrapped in hospital exhaustion, adrenaline draining from my body in slow, painful waves and then he spoke.
“Paintings, rare manuscripts, sculptures—high-value pieces are used to launder money,” he said bluntly, eyes never leaving the road. “To shift wealth. To hide transactions that would never survive public scrutiny. They mo
