He had taken two portable office files “home” with him. With ample food-delivery options, he’d had no plans for leaving the city apartment. That way he could kill two birds with one stone—he could process old case files while putting in an appearance at the address of his official life.

At least that was the plan until he received Molly’s phone call.

When his phone rang and her name appeared, he had to wrestle with an unruly surge of pride as he considered whether he would answer.

She’d ripped him a new one in their previous conversation, and he was honest enough to admit he had deserved it. But when he’d tried to extend a new olive branch, she had shut him down so hard he still heard the ice in her voice when he looked at her name on the screen.

He refused to be at the beck and call of any woman, no matter how intriguing, gifted—or right—she might be. But then curiosity got the better of him. It had been blazingly clear Molly had meant their previous conversation to be their last, so why was she reaching out again?

He picked up… and her first words galvanized him into action. He was already racing out to the parking garage and leaping into his car before they had even hung up. Casting a cloaking spell over his vehicle, he broke speed limits to reach her rental, only to be forced to sit in place until she arrived.

While he waited, he called Anson. “Austin Sullivan attacked Molly at their house, and she put him down hard. She doesn’t know if she killed him. I need you to monitor police channels and go to their house to check things out.”

“I’m on it. What am I looking for specifically?”

“For one thing, I want to know if he’s alive or dead, because that will impact her legal situation.” He fell silent, his thoughts racing as he kept a sharp eye on the quiet street.

Maria had sensed violence surrounding the Seychelles file, but they had assumed any violence would be connected to their investigation. Everyone in his coven had already accepted they walked a dangerous path as they stalked their quarry.

It had never occurred to them that Molly might become the target of violence. Maybe it should have, but she’d been smart and sensible when she’d taken precautions and rented her new place.

Then she negated all of it when she went back to her old house.

“Josiah, you still there?”

Anson’s voice snapped him back into focus. “Yes. Sorry. For another thing, we don’t know if this is purely a domestic dispute or if it’s related to the intel she gave me. Be careful, Anson. We don’t know who’s involved.”

“Understood. I’ll be in touch when I know something.” The other man disconnected.