The day Finley tracked me down, a slow, unrelenting drizzle was falling over London, lingering and heavy with unspoken weight, just like those bone-chilling nights I had endured back in the Capital.
I was curled up on the couch, one hand rubbing my rounded baby bump while I binged a show. I felt calm, comfortable, and utterly oblivious to the storm that was about to crash into my life.
All of a sudden, a loud commotion broke out outside the courtyard gate. Seconds later, a familiar figure stepped into my line of sight.
The man was in a tailored black suit, his posture as straight and imposing as ever. His brow and jaw were still set in that familiar cold, hard line, but there was something new in his eyes: exhaustion, raw urgency, and a flicker of some emotion I could not place.
He sto
