ds clung to the air like fog, heavy and unsh

ere "

nly become a threat instead of the fake wife they were instructed to tolerate. One o

ly tou

to me. Trusted me with it, he said. But the basement, the files, the photos... the cold steel of the door locking behind me, all

, I nee

y; cars, sunlight, life. I envied it. There was a time not long ago when I was part of that c

uzzed. No

ered a

u want the truth, meet me at 77 Laurel

ne wen

I checked the call log. Nothi

't tel

s survival. Maybe I was tired of being kept in th

de entrance. No heels. No makeup. Just a

ngs, broken streetlights, the stench of rust and rain. M

sed. Windows dusty. But the d

e, si

e shadows. Tall, unshaven, leather jacke

r than I thou

are

for your husband. Before

od ran

he back room, he handed me a folde

ts. This is the rest. The original file

shots. Financial records. Bank transfers in names

t Blac

's fa

is t

t the empire Damon in

ying he kille

amily has blood on their hands. Damo

chest tight. "Why are

u're really married to. The man? O

respond, the do

mo

ked on mine,

wed me?" I

me," he gro

me toward the door. The ma

said. "You're not the first gir

to the night, threw

t i

e scar

be now you

ed the way his anger curled around me, but wo

said finally. "Then buckle up.

contin