Regret Came Too Late

Grace waited for an hour outside, yet Lucian never appeared again. Instead, a steady stream of people entered and exited his house, busy with something she couldn't see.

She turned to Lyle and asked, "Do you know what's going on in there?"

Lyle stretched lazily, suppressing a yawn. "Not really. But none of them are a match for me."

There was no doubt that a killer forged in life-or-death battles would always outclass those of professional brawlers.

Grace narrowed her eyes, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "That makes things easier. You'll take him."

Lyle's energy sparked to life. After the incident with Lucian, he was convinced that she would never trust him again. After all, his negligence had indeed caused her trouble. She had every right to cast him aside.

Nevertheless, blood surged through his veins with a fresh sense of purpose.

He reached for the door, ready to act, but she caught his arm.

"Wait until nightfall," she said. "Once you have him, take him here. Lyle, don't let this become another Daphne situation. Leave no opening for anyone else to interfere."

A flush crept up his cheeks. He suddenly recalled what Zack had said—that his lack of composure was the cause of his repeated disadvantages.

He retreated, his fingers absently twisting the end of his braid as he lowered his lashes. The fire inside him dimmed from regret. "I understand."

Grace lifted her chin toward the door. Once the target was secured, Lyle had to bring him straight to the rendezvous point.

Lyle stepped out reluctantly, watching the car pull away before he let out a long breath. Then, he slipped into the shadows without a sound.

men assumed Grace had already retreated, not knowing that Lyle had stayed

home, only to find Liam utterly drained by the doorway. It was like

no desire to exchange a single word

door, intent on entering, when his sudden voice stopped her. "Andrea's dead, both her and the baby. She said

was sitting on the floor off the side, his shoulders slumped and his entire being steeped

"I dream

about D

Dad every night now.

scolding

disappointed in

mess. Andrea

in

me. Before she died,

s

anything. She would never hurt me. She would never use the baby to frame

dead. To say she

as a creeping realization edged into her mind. Then, all at once, she remembered

from the floor, forcing a smile

said we'd celebrate my 20th birthday together.

give

rand