“He was angry. Angry that Cassandra chose Jack over him. Angry he didn’t get to keep the CEO position after Jack stepped down.” Anger fell short as a descriptor. He’d become irrational.

“And here I thought it was all about greed.”

Greed is a likely motivator. Often, when one performs evil, the mind weaves multiple motives into justification.

I think about Cassandra. What on Earth was she thinking, having an affair with Wayne? When she and Jack drifted apart, was Wayne the one she turned to? Unless we uncover something she wrote about it, we’ll never know her reasons.

“How’s Sophia?”

“Jack says she’s doing better. He has her home.”

“Poor Sophia.” I want to see her. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“As long as they say you need to.”

“How long have I been here?”

His gaze drifts to the clock on the wall.

“Fifteen hours. You’ve drifted in and out. This is the longest you’ve stayed up. What do you remember?”

“Voices. Your voice.”

“Do you remember me telling you that I love you?”

I shake my head slowly.

“You might not remember this time either. That’s okay. I’ll keep telling you.” He lifts his head, and I’m completely taken in by his watery eyes. I cup his jaw. His bristly facial growth has softened with length. His hand covers mine.

“I love you, too, you know.” A soft smile spreads. “Have I been telling you that?”

“First time.” His lips press into my palm. “God, do you realize—”

“Hey. I’m okay.”

He blinks, and his lips contort. He breathes in heavily, and some of that big, strong man surfaces.

“And Trace?” I ask, understanding that he needs to lighten the moment. A small smile returns.

“Stella has him. They surprised Trevor with a new puppy, so Trace has been keeping Astra, the older dog, company. Astra’s apparently bent out of shape over the puppy.”

“Oh, I love puppies. What kind?”

He pulls out his phone and shows me a photo of an adorable husky puppy with blue eyes similar to Ryan’s.

“He has your Wolf eyes,” I say, smiling at the adorable puppy photo, because that’s what one does with adorable puppy photos, no matter how much one’s face might throb.

“Actually, that’s a common misbelief.”

“Really?”

“In the wild, wolves eyes are gray or brown or even yellow. The light blue eyes are bred, something you only see in domesticated wolves.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing. I guess people prefer blue over the other colors?” I certainly have developed a love for light blue.

“Friendlier, I suppose.” He scrunches his nose, and his lips contort into a comical grin.

I laugh. But as I gaze up into those light blue eyes, I no longer see ice. Only adoration. And love.

“True story.” He presses his lips against my forehead and squeezes my fingers. “Let me go find the doctor. Let’s see when we can get you home.”

EPILOGUE

Ryan

One month later