Logan was alive.
The words kept circling in Marcus's mind like vultures, refusing to land, refusing to make sense. His beloved uncle, the man who'd taught him how to tie his shoes, who'd been the only constant warmth in his childhood, that man had faked his death specifically to draw Marcus home so he could kill him.
Marcus felt like he was drowning in open air.
Every assassination attempt, the car accident that had nearly killed him, the man in the parking garage, the knife in the hallway. All of it had been Logan, his uncle, the person he'd loved most in the world after his mother died.
And worse, so much worse, Logan had been poisoning his father. Slowly, methodically, turning Owen Jensen's own body against him, maybe triggering whatever underlying condition the doctors had found, maybe making it worse, maybe the heart problems were just a convenient cover story and the real damage was something else entirely.
