Desmond looked like a ghost, not in the way Vivienne had, polished and terrible, but hollowed out, his hair longer, clothes disheveled, his eyes ringed with sleeplessness.
For a second, I thought I was imagining him. The last time I’d seen Desmond was the night Catherine pulled the trigger on me. He had vanished into the smoke and blood, and in the weeks since, I’d convinced myself he was either dead or worse working alongside them but here he was at our door.
Noah’s hand tightened on the edge of the frame. His voice was low, dangerous. “You’ve got nerve showing up here.”
Desmond didn’t flinch. His gaze flicked from Noah to me and back again. “I know how it looks but I didn’t come here to fight you. I came because… if you want to bring Vivienne down, you’re going to need me.”
My stomac
