The drizzle clinging to the coastal cemetery had turned into a thick, lingering fog that smelled of pine needles and damp earth.

"Brother?"

The word tore from Selina's throat in a choked, unstable breath. The rain-slicked gravel beneath her boots felt as though it were dropping away into a dark, bottomless trench. Her gaze flicked frantically between Jason's agonized face and the towering, dark-haired man standing mere inches from her.

Ruben didn't drop his hands. He didn't sneer. He didn't drop the calm, elegant mask that draped over his sharp features like fine silk.

Instead, Ruben took a step toward Selina, his dark eyes softening with a heavy, sorrowful warmth...