Edmund's POV
The warehouse district smelled like rust and regret.
I had been sitting in the same gray sedan for forty-seven minutes, watching the same gray door, waiting for a man who was already ten minutes late. My coffee had gone cold an hour ago. My patience had followed shortly after.
This was not how I wanted to spend my morning.
Adrian was in a boardroom somewhere, fighting for his company. Geneviève was back at the estate, limping around like a wounded lioness, digging up secrets that would get us all killed. And I was here, in the armpit of Los Angeles, trying to buy a way out.
Not for me.
For her.
Alexandra.
The girl didn't know it yet. Neither did Adrian. But I had been watching the math for weeks, and the numbers didn't add up in their favor. Alexiou had money. He had connections. He had patience. And now he had Vanessa Calloway and her military-trained boyfriend inside the estate's orbit, feeding him information like breadcrumbs to pigeons.
