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She continues explaining how volunteers moved between programs, but my attention keeps returning to Bane. He sits beside me with his focus on the photograph, his shoulders tense beneath his jacket.

He’s told me pieces of that time, but never this, and as Patricia continues talking, I can’t stop connecting the bodyguard I spent time with in a dressing suite with the man I eventually found running Wolf Shield.

I’d assumed grief, work, and opportunity filled the distance between them, but Celeste’s shelters were there too, apparently shaping a part of his life he’s never explained to me.

When Bane finally looks at me, he knows I’ve understood that much.

I keep my questions to myself while Patricia is still talking because this isn’t the place to press him, and Celeste’s history deserves better than becoming background for an argument.

Still, by the time Patricia reaches for another folder, the investigation has changed shape.

We came here trying to understand Nora Bell.

I leave wondering what really happened during Bane’s missing years.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Bane

JULY 25TH

Emma waits until we’re well into the drive back toward Manhattan before she turns away from the passenger window and asks the question I’ve expected since Patricia Doyle recognized me. “Can I ask you about those years?”

My grip tightens around the steering wheel before I force my hands to ease. Traffic is moving better than expected, which should give me plenty to concentrate on, but Emma has spent most of the drive with one hand resting over her stomach.

She watches the city draw closer through the glass, and I’ve known she was working her way toward this conversation.

“You can ask me anything.”

“I know.” She adjusts the seat belt across her shoulder and looks at me. “That doesn’t mean you always answer.”

The observation is fair enough that I don’t bother arguing with it.

She gives me another few seconds before continuing. “Patricia remembered you working at several shelters after Celeste died, and from the way she described it, you were around for months.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never mentioned that.”

There’s no accusation behind it, which makes it harder to hide behind defensiveness. Emma has always been good at giving people space while making it clear she intends to understand what they’re doing with it.

I move into the next lane before answering. “There are parts of that time I haven’t talked about much.”

“I figured.” Her fingers slide across the buckle of her seat belt. “I know you stopped working for Spencer, and then three years later you were running Wolf Shield. Somewhere between those two things, your entire life changed, and I realized that I don’t know how.”

I glance across at her before returning my attention to the road.

She watches me for another few beats. “Why did you leave Spencer?”

I’ve answered that question before, although never truthfully enough to satisfy myself.

I could tell her I wanted another direction after years of personal protection work, which would be accurate enough. I could blame grief or exhaustion and still stay within the facts.

None of those explanations covers why I handed Spencer my resignation less than three weeks after finding Emma crying in a dressing room.

She turns back toward the windshield when I stay silent. “You don’t have to tell me today.”

“I left because of you.”