Ardan stood at one end of the war table with crossed arms and a dark face with suspicion written all over it. Zone paced near the fireplace, pacing up and down, clearly frustrated. Across from me, Roman leaned casually against the wall, with his usual composed expression giving away nothing, but I could see it—Ardan and Zone’s distrust was starting to chip away at his calm exterior.

“Something’s not right,” Zone muttered for the third time, shooting Roman another glare. “We’re chasing leads, scrambling to keep Gilly safe, and every time something goes wrong, he’s around.”

Roman let out a quiet sigh and rolled his eyes as he pushed himself...