Chapter 89

y the time I pull into the clubhouse lot, my hands have finally stopped shaking. 

Mostly. 

Claim 

I’d called Locke from the car because knew if I waited until we both got back home, if I let myself walk off the elevator carrying those glossy black shopping bags and pretending everything was fine, I might lose my nerve and decide not to tell anyone at all. 

That old instinct still lives inside me somewhere, the one Knox spent years carefully cultivating. 

So I called, and Locke answered on the first ring. I said his name, and he just knew. 

I hadn’t even managed to explain properly before his voice changed, all warmth gone, replaced by something so calm and cold that it frightened me almost as much as Knox had.