Her breath catches, but the hurt doesn’t fade from her eyes. “If that’s true, then prove it. Check on Cora. Make sure she’s okay.”
“The Hunt?—”
“I don’t care about your Hunt!” she cries, frustration bleeding through every word. “I care about my bestfriend who’s being used as a weapon in some twisted revenge plot that you helped set in motion!”
She rises from the chair, crossing the space between us. Her hands press against my chest, the contact burning through my shirt.
“Please, Xavier. If you feel anything for me at all, do this. Find out if she’s okay. Make sure those men aren’t... aren’t hurting her beyond what she consented to.”
I cover her hands with mine, feeling the tremors that run through them. “And if they are?”
“Then stop them. I don’t care how. Use your power, your influence, whatever it takes. Please, make sure Cora is safe.”
The request goes against everything the Hunt represents—the rules, the balance of power, the sanctity of claims once made. But looking at Mira’s tear-streaked face, I realize none of that matters anymore.
“Okay,” I agree, squeezing her hands gently. “I’ll find out how she is. And if necessary, I’ll intervene.”
Relief washes over her features, but the wariness remains. “Thank you.”
I release her hands, already planning how to approach Dominic. The man’s grudge against Mayor Pike runs deep, and he won’t appreciate my interference. But he’ll like my displeasure even less.
“This doesn’t change things between us,” Mira says softly, stepping back. “I still need time to process everything. To figure out if I can love a man who would knowingly let someone be used like that.”
“I understand.” And I do. For the first time in my life,I’m seeing my actions through someone else’s eyes—someone whose opinion matters to me.
“But it’s a start,” she continues, her voice steadying. “Showing that you care about what happens to Cora, that you’re willing to break your own rules to protect someone important to me... it means something.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. This unfamiliar territory—caring about consequences beyond profit and power—leaves me without my usual arsenal of calculated responses.
“I’ll go check on her now,” I promise, reaching for my phone. “And Mira?”
She looks up, those haunted hazel eyes meeting mine.
“I’m sorry,” I say, the words foreign on my tongue. “I didn’t understand then what she meant to you. But I do now.”
A ghost of a smile touches her lips, not forgiveness but acknowledgment. “Then prove it, not with words, but with actions. Show me you can be more than the man who stood by while this happened.”
As she walks away, leaving me alone in my office with the weight of her challenge, I realize that for the first time in my life, I want to be more than the monster I’ve always been. For Mira, I want to be better.
And it starts with making amends for what I’ve done to Cora.
44
MIRA
I'm pulled from a dreamless sleep by Xavier's hand gently shaking my shoulder. When I blink my eyes open, he's already dressed in dark jeans and a charcoal button-down, looking irritatingly perfect for someone awake at—I glance at the clock—seven in the morning.
“We need to go,” he says, his voice surprisingly soft compared to the harsh words we exchanged last night.
I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Where?”
His lips curve into that infuriating half-smile. “It's a surprise.”
After everything he confessed last night—the murders, the trafficking, all of it—he expects me to follow him to some mystery location? But his expression stops my protest before it forms. There's an unusual vulnerability there, as if he's offering something precious and isn't sure I'll accept it.
“Did you check on Cora?” I ask instead, worry for my friend overrides everything else.
Xavier nods. “I did.”
