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“Lighter.” She answered instantly. “Yes, it was much lighter.”

“Like he had an injury, or pain?”

She nodded. “Yes, just like that.”

I hesitated. “When did you smell cloves.”

Her breath caught. There was a second, then quietly. “After rain. Always after rain.” She closed her eyes. “Concrete and cloves and rain. So thick, it was choking. Those were the times I knew for sure he was there. Still he waited, thinking he was deceiving me. But he wasn’t. I waited for him to come and at first it was almost like he didn’t realize I knew his scent. Like he didn’t know it himself… like he was somehow immune.”

Silence settled.

The room disappeared.

The walls.

The training mats.

Even Nyssa.

All I could hear were footsteps.

One heavier than the other.

Rain.

Concrete.

Cloves.

He wasn’t a ghost anymore.

Those crime scene photos waited on my desk, but I didn’t need them. I burned every drop into my memory. I turned back to her. “Show me.” My voice sounded different. “Show me again.”

She flinched. “Why?”

The silence became its own answer.

Then—

“Because I know him.”

27

ALARIC

Her footsteps faded. Slower this time. The soft drag of her foot lingered long after she’d gone. I winced at the sound. God. I hated that limp. Hated what’d put it there. I stood in the doorway of the library and listened until the echoes disappeared. But I didn’t just hear her anymore. I felt her. Every room she walked through somehow carried her with it. The warmth she left behind. The quiet. The laugh she’d only just discovered.

And now…

I saw her too. Not perfectly. Not completely. Just enough. Enough to know the world looked different with her standing in it. But it wouldn’t stay like this. Would it? Not if I couldn’t protect her and I was already running out of time.

I reached for my phone and turned toward the study. I hadn’t heard from Rafe in over fourth-eight hours. Not since I sent him to hunt Cassian Vale down. It wasn’t like him. That alone unnerved me. The heavy thud of my boots resounded as I strode into the study, but I didn’t head for the coffee machine this time. No. I pulled out the chair and sat behind my desk, pulling the notebook from the drawer and opened the pages.

There was my scrawl. Lop-sided…honest.

Things Nyssa loves…

My gaze danced over the words… then stopped.