Corvine barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes the same loop started up again.
Liah's unanswered calls, that thick silence on the other end of the line, her warning still ringing in his ears, and the uneasy feeling that something ugly was unfolding in France.
His mind wouldn't quit. The sheets felt too cold against his skin, the quiet of the mansion too loud, and by the time the first gray light pushed through the curtains his chest was tight and his thoughts were still racing.
He got up early, pulled on clothes without much thought, and headed downstairs. The smell of coffee and frying bacon was already drifting from the kitchen.
He moved through the rooms, keeping an eye on the maids as they set out plates and poured juice, then went to check on the kids. Everything looked ordinary on the surface, but the restless energy under his skin wouldn't settle.
Then his phone buzzed in his pocket.
