Lucian went rigid.

The dead cold in his eyes began to clear.

His pupils trembled.

Slowly, stiffly, he looked down.

Nothing was visible around his waist.

But his reaction told me he had felt my arms.

Perhaps my voice, too.

He raised a trembling hand with extraordinary care, as though afraid of frightening something away.

It lowered toward mine.

For an instant, it seemed to cover it.

Then it passed through and touched his own body.

Gone.

So brief it could have been imagined.

I had done everything I could.

Exhaustion washed through me.

I rested my face against the space at his broad back and begged him.

“Don’t destroy yourself. Please.”

I already owed him more than I could repay.

He couldn’t lose his future for me, too.

He closed his eyes hard.

Julian’s remaining hand began to slip.

At the last moment, Lucian caught him.

He hauled him up and threw him onto the roof.

Relief left me weak.

He had stopped.

He hadn’t done something he could never take back.

I wanted Julian dead.

I wanted to cut him apart myself.

But if his death cost Lucian his life, it wasn’t worth it.

That bastard didn’t deserve such a price.

Julian lay helpless on the ground, too drained even to get up.

Hayes finally helped him to his feet.

“Blackwood, you—”

“Detective. My apologies. I’m late.”

The voice alone seemed to worsen Hayes’s headache.

Adrian hurried onto the roof.

“I understand my client and Mr. Whitmore have had a small misunderstanding.”

Sweat shone at his neck, but his professional smile was immaculate.

“A small misunderstanding?” Hayes nearly laughed. “Every officer here saw him almost throw this man off a building.”

“That’s a rather severe interpretation. Look. There’s an inflatable rescue cushion below. The fall wouldn’t have killed him.”

Adrian pointed.

I looked down.

His people had indeed installed one beneath the building.

My respect for his efficiency soared.

No wonder he commanded an eight-figure annual retainer.

Julian had recovered enough to hide behind Hayes, looking at Lucian as though he carried a plague.

“I know you’re good with words, Mr. Shaw. But he kidnapped me and tried to kill me. He pointed a gun at me. The detective saw it.”

Adrian’s smile paused.

I could almost see him searching for the right argument.

Lucian spoke before he found it.

“Who said the gun had live ammunition?”

He raised it and fired several times into the sky.

Blanks.

Every one.

“You removed the bullets,” Julian said quickly. “There were live rounds before. Detective, there were.”

“I understand extreme agitation can affect a person’s perceptions,” Adrian replied. “But please don’t make unsupported accusations against my client.”

He paused, adjusted his glasses, and gave Julian a meaningful smile.

“Losing the case and having to apologize publicly could be embarrassing.”

A clear warning.

Adrian had never lost.

Julian’s face darkened.

He clenched his teeth and swallowed his anger.

“I’ve certainly learned how powerful you are today, Mr. Blackwood.”

Adrian read the shift immediately.

His smile widened as he produced a prepared check.

“During their game, my client unfortunately used excessive force and fractured Mr. Whitmore’s finger. He regrets it and is offering compensation. I don’t believe a civil dispute needs to take up any more of your time.”

He turned the same polished smile on Hayes.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Carter.”

Hayes’s face was thunderous.

The officer behind him answered immediately.

Keeping his wary gaze on Lucian, Hayes gave his orders.

“The kidnappers may contact the family again. Starting today, take a team and stay with Mr. Whitmore around the clock. Until we recover Stella.”

I looked at him with bitter disappointment.

An experienced detective.

Fooled again and again by Julian’s suffering-husband routine.

Given a choice between Julian and Lucian, he always trusted the former.

Hayes wasn’t a bad man.

But sometimes a foolish good man could leave you speechless.

Wait.

Kidnappers?

Another performance Julian had arranged.

I was already in pieces.

They couldn’t put me back together, much less bring me home.

“Do you have news of my wife?” Julian asked urgently. “What do you mean?”

Hayes looked at him with sympathy.

“You need to prepare yourself. Before coming here, I visited your family. Someone provided evidence suggesting the Whitmores might be connected to Stella’s disappearance. I wanted to ask questions.”

At “someone,” he glanced at Lucian.

“While I was there, a package arrived.”

He paused.

“Inside was a woman’s arm. All five fingers were broken. Your father examined it carefully. He was certain it was Stella’s left arm because of a crescent-shaped scar.”

“Yes. That’s hers.”

Julian’s voice rose.

“A crescent scar, just over an inch long, on her left forearm. They kidnapped her. They cut off her arm. Stella!”

He dropped to his knees and covered his face, sobbing.

I watched without feeling.

Hayes patted his shoulder.

“Try to hold on to the good news. At least she’s alive. They took her to Veyra. They’re demanding a ransom. The exchange is in three days, in international waters.”

“The money is handed over, and she’s released.”