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Untouched. Unbroken. Just … sealed off.
Ronan sat back on his heels, breathing harder than the work warranted. His gaze tracked over it, taking in the craftsmanship, the care it must’ve taken to build a fireplace like this.
Yet someone had decided to wall it up.
His jaw tightened.
A sharp, unwelcome thought cut through the lingering edge of his anger.
He’d come at it ready to tear it apart.
No patience. No care. Brute force.
And if he hadn’t stopped when the sound changed…
He would’ve driven that pry bar straight through the tile. Cracked it. Shattered something that had survived everything thrown at it.
All because he hadn’t bothered to look first.
Felicity’s face flickered, unbidden, through his mind — hooded eyes, sharp tongue, every inch of her held tight behind walls he hadn’t yet figured out how to read.
Not broken. Not cold.
Just … closed off where it mattered.
Ronan scrubbed a hand over his face.
He’d been pushing. Prodding. Looking for weak spots instead of understanding what held everything up.
Benefit of the doubt.
The words took on a different meaning now. He exhaled slowly, the last of the heat bleeding out of his temper, leaving something steadier in its wake.
“All right,” he said quietly, glancing back at the fireplace. “I get it.”
Gertrude didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to.
Ronan pushed to his feet, already scanning the edges of the opening. Not for what to rip out next, but for how to uncover the rest without doing damage.
It was time to be careful. Patient. Because it was worth the effort.
And he wasn’t just talking about Gertrude.
10
Iron horse
Her phone vibrated against the desk. Felicity tilted it just enough to read the notification. A news alert.
Her pulse quickened.
She’d set it the night after Vasily’s arrest almost two months ago, unwilling to be blindsided again. Once had been enough.
Palming the device, Felicity pushed back her chair. She grabbed the smokes she kept in her bottom drawer for moments of extreme stress — this definitely counted — and shoved them into her back pocket. Seconds later, she slipped out of the rear entrance. Only once she stood beneath the yellowing elm, shaded from curious stares, did she allow herself to open the article.
TRIAL DATE IS SET FOR RUSSIAN ORGANIZED CRIME FIGURE CHARGED WITH MURDER AND TRAFFICKING
She skimmed, picking out the pertinent parts.
