EMMA
I wiped my palms on my coat as I walked toward the main lodge. The cold nipped at my cheeks, but for the first time in days, the sting didn’t bother me. The decorations glowed softly behind me, lantern light flickering against snow like captured stars. I had helped make that. Me. The realization gave me a strange buoyancy.
I pushed the door open and froze.
Gabriel’s voice was sharp, and threaded with a lethal calm poured through the hallway like smoke.
“Je me fiche de tes excuses,” he snapped in French. I don’t care about your excuses. “Tu avais une tâche. Une. Et tu as échoué… encore.” His tone grew harder. “Si tu compromets encore une opération du club—ne crois pas que ton nom te protégera.”
I didn’t understand every word… but I understood the tone.
Power.
Unrestrained, dange
