Dante woke the next morning with the name already in his head.

Marcus Hale.

He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying to push it away. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t go down this road again. Promised Sienna the same thing.

No more chasing shadows. No more letting the past drag them under.

Family first.

Always.

But the name wouldn’t leave.

It sat there, heavy and insistent.

Marcus Hale. The second car. The missing piece that refused to stay buried.

By the time he got out of bed, he already knew he wasn’t done with it.

---

Breakfast didn’t help.

Leo was halfway through a story about...