Freya.

I couldn’t sit still in my office anymore.

The thought that Ryder might have had someone murdered made my stomach churn violently, a sick, heavy dread that refused to loosen its grip. My hands were clammy, my chest tight, and every breath felt shallow.

Could he really be a demon? The question kept circling in my head, darker and more terrifying each time. I needed answers. I needed to look him in the eyes and hear the truth, no matter how ugly it was.

So here I was, standing outside his office door, fidgeting like a nervous wreck, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, heart hammering...