“What the fuck are you doing here, Atticus?”

Killian’s cold voice sent chills down my spine even though it wasn’t directed at me. I’d dealt with my fair share of monsters, but my husband had a ruthless side to him that he hid behind his charming smile.

It probably blindsided people when he attacked; they’d never expect it from someone as beautiful as him.

“Emory and I have business to discuss,” Atticus drawled. I’d been buying time ever since our last encounter, ignoring his messages, hoping to find a solution and the location of the person I’d been looking for without his help.

But the old man was nothing if not persistent.

“Whatever you’ve got to say, now is not the time. And you’re trespassing,” Killian warned. “Tell me why I shouldn’t have my guards shoot you right now.”

“Because this business,” Atticus started, looking at me pointedly, “is the only thing standing between life and death.” He waved his hand nonchalantly. “Besides, they now work for me and the ones who refused are dead.”

Killian obviously thought him full of shit because he wasn’t moved. “My wife’s business is my business, so spit it out and be on your way.”

Dread coursed through me at the knowledge that I brought this dangerous man to our doorstep. I should have never made a deal with him, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And God, I was so fucking desperate.

“Atticus, this isn’t a good time,” I gritted, trying to keep my cool. I couldn’t let Killian learn my secret. Not now.

My heart raced as I watched Killian’s cold gaze lock on the man who held the key to the only thing I cared about.

Atticus’s eyes were on me, his lips lifting into a sick grin as he said, “My beautiful Emory. Time is of the essence if you want your answers.”

I wondered if Atticus was like my father, who had a way of bending the illusion of normality so that it forever stayed out of my grasp.

“What fucking answers?” Killian demanded.

Atticus ignored him. “Let me remind you of our deal: you give me a name, and I’ll give you yours along with the location. Two for one. See? Don’t ever say I’m not generous.”

“What the fuck is he talking about, Em?” Killian repeated.

“I waved my hand nonchalantly while my heart threatened to beat through my rib cage. “This guy’s lost his mind.”

Atticus chuckled as if I’d uttered the funniest joke, but there was little humor in his eyes as they studied me.

“Stop looking at her that way, or I’ll dig your eyeballs out of your skull,” Killian warned, his spine stiff, violence in his posture as he blocked me from the bastard’s view.

“This doesn’t concern you, Irishman,” Atticus stated calmly, batting away Killian’s threat. “Emory DiLustro should be grateful for my patience.”

“Her name is Emory Cullen and you better learn to use it,” Killian hissed, his eyes screaming murder. “My wife owes you nothing, and if you don’t get out of here, I’ll secure you a trip six feet under.”

Atticus’s nostrils flared, his gaze now on Killian. It would seem my husband’s reputation preceded him: Killian Cullen did not make empty threats.

Panic zinged through me as my thoughts whirled with a dozen what-ifs, but it was a moot point. I learned a long time ago that you had little say in the cards you were dealt.

I eyed my surroundings for a weapon before remembering Killian kept a gun hidden underneath the table in my foyer.

I took a small step back at the same time Atticus drew two guns, aiming them at my husband and me.

“Don’t move, Emory,” Atticus stated, his voice lethal. “Or you’ll be planning your husband’s funeral.” My movements halted and I leveled him with a glare. “Good girl,” he purred. “Now get back to your husband.”

“Don’t fucking move,” Killian said, his eyes still locked on the unwelcome visitor. “Stay exactly where you are, Em.”

“I was so fucking sick and tired of men telling me what to do. Yes, Killian had my best interests at heart, but I could protect myself. I survived two decades under one of the cruelest men in the Syndicate, for fuck’s sake. I deserved some credit.

“Let’s make this quick,” Atticus said with a twisted smirk, “so you two lovebirds can get back to professing your love for one another.”

I should never have trusted this asshole. My cousins and brother wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole and would have advised against my dealings with him had I asked.

But I didn’t ask. Atticus was my ticket to get to her, and that was more important than my pride.

“Unless you want to talk about…” Atticus trailed off, and somehow I knew whatever he was about to say would change my world forever. “Do you want to talk about Amara? You could see her by this time tomorrow.”

Amara. Amara. Amara.

The shock rocked me to my core at finally learning her name. All these years of searching and I finally got that little piece of information that I should’ve had all along.

“Who in the fuck is Amara?” Killian’s voice startled me out of my stupor and my mind raced through a thousand answers.

“It’s now or never, Emory,” Atticus stated matter-of-factly. “Who matters more? Who do you love more? Your husband or…”