Lucian kept walking.

“In the car.”

I followed, then looked back.

The last sparks fell toward the river.

The dazzling display was over. Only a faint smell of smoke remained.

The wind scattered it.

It all felt like a dream.

“Owen seems to have gotten involved with something he shouldn’t have,” Miles said.

He handed over his phone.

A video from one of the men showed Owen rolling on the floor, convulsing.

He clawed at his own neck, leaving bloody tracks.

It looked like withdrawal.

I thought of Voss.

Julian had kept him obedient by controlling his mother through some addictive drug.

Voss would rather die than betray him.

Could Julian be the man controlling Owen, too?

He had killed me for a heart to prolong his life.

Perhaps Tessa’s organs had prolonged another powerful person’s.

Grief and fury filled me.

I wasn’t the first.

She wouldn’t be the last.

Somewhere behind all this, people were choosing orphans who met their requirements.

Waiting until the time was right.

Then killing them like livestock and taking what they needed.

Why orphans?

Because the risk was lower.

No parents. No protection. People living at the bottom of society, whose absence might never matter to anyone with a voice.

I wanted to drag every last monster into the light and tear them apart.

Twenty minutes later, we reached a basement.

Owen was tied to a chair, unconscious.

Knox was there.

“We gave him a sedative. His symptoms suggest one of the new drugs. High purity. Very addictive.”

He frowned.

“I hadn’t heard anyone was stupid enough to start bringing that stuff into Fairhaven.”

I knew what he meant.

Lucian moved between legitimate business and the underworld, but he refused to touch drugs.

Once, a group had tried selling them behind his back.

Before the police could act, he dismantled the operation himself and delivered the dealers to the station.

An easy win for law enforcement.

He looked at Owen, eyes narrowing.

“His phone?”

“Checked every contact. Nothing suspicious.”

Lucian sat opposite him.

“Wake him.”

Knox pressed a powerful stun baton to Owen’s neck.

He jerked awake.

His bloodshot eyes struggled to focus.

“I remember you. You were at—”

A bucket of ice water hit him.

Now he was fully awake.

And he remembered exactly who Lucian was.

His face drained.

“Mr. Blackwood. Why am I tied up? I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Why so nervous?”

Lucian leaned back and crossed his legs.

He even smiled.

Owen shook so badly the chair moved with him.

“Please. Just tell me what you want.”

His face began twitching again.

The withdrawal was returning.

Lucian lit a cigarette and inhaled slowly.

Smoke softened the edges of that almost unnaturally beautiful face, making him look more dangerous.

“Put me in touch with your employer. I need a fresh heart. Young.”

I stared at him.

I knew Owen had sold Tessa because I had spoken to her ghost.

Lucian had worked it out from a bad performance beside a body.

Whatever else was wrong with him, his intelligence never failed.

He lounged in the chair, careless and cruel, the perfect portrait of an entitled heir who considered human life disposable.

Owen’s expression changed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Lucian studied him with a gaze sharp enough to pierce skin.

He lifted a hand.

A subordinate brought over a case and opened it.

Bundles of cash filled the interior.

Owen stared.

Greed lit his eyes.

“Twenty percent up front,” Lucian said. “The balance when it’s done.”

Owen swallowed.

“You’re serious? That’s only twenty percent?”

He was caught.

Everyone had a weakness.

A man willing to sell his girlfriend’s life for cash clearly worshipped money.

Lucian looked contemptuous.

“What would I get out of playing games with someone like you?”

Owen wanted it.

But he was still afraid. His eyes shifted uncertainly.

“Too much trouble.”

Lucian stood.

“Put him back wherever you found him.”

The money was about to disappear.

Owen panicked.

“Wait! I’ll do it!”

He struggled upright, chair and all.

“I’ll contact them!”

At the doorway, Lucian had his back to him.

I saw the cold flash in his eyes.

When he turned, the careless expression had returned.

He glanced at Knox.

Knox untied Owen and handed him his phone.

Owen watched everyone warily and backed into a corner.

He checked for cameras.

Then, shielding the screen with one hand, he dialed with the other.

He couldn’t hide it from me.

I stood right in front of him.

So that was why his contacts were clean.

He had memorized the number.

The call connected.

“Mr. Hawthorne, has the price of tea gone up? My wife paid three hundred more for this batch than the last one.”

A code.

After two seconds, a mechanical voice recited another number.

Owen dialed it.

Across the room, Lucian put in an earpiece.

“K.” Owen covered his mouth. “I have a major client. He wants a heart.”

I stood barely a foot away.

The longer I spent dead, the sharper my hearing seemed to become.

I heard the reply without effort.

“What sort of client?”

Low.

Rasping.

Like a voice burned by fire.

I stared, my whole spirit shaking.

I knew that voice.

Julian’s contact.

The man who had disposed of my body.

K.

At last, he had a name.