Page 103

It was a cover, of course. They weren’t here to check on Melanie. They were here to warn Luke—to let him know he would be arrested, that it was part of the plan, and that he needed to play along if he wanted to make it out of this alive.

Noah checked the time. 5:47 p.m.

“Damn, he’s taking his time,” Alex muttered, stretching his legs.

Noah didn’t answer, just kept his eyes trained on the entrance.

Then, movement.

A familiar figure approached the building, his posture stiff, his head on a swivel.

Luke Andrews.

Noah took a slow breath. “Showtime.”

Alex cracked his knuckles. “Let’s go knock on the door.”

They stepped out of the car, walking with the easy confidence of men who belonged—like cops on an ordinary visit, nothing more. Noah rolled his shoulders, trying to work some of the tension from his muscles before they approached. He was running on fumes, but exhaustion made this easier. It wasn’t hard to fake. When they reached the door, Noah knocked firmly.

Footsteps shuffled inside. Then, the sound of the lock clicking. The door swung open, and Melanie stood there. The second she saw him, her expression shifted—not quite surprised, not quite annoyed, but something between calculation and caution.

“Noah…”

Noah exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Melanie.” His voice was rough, worn—just enough fatigue to make the act convincing.

Her gaze flicked past him to Alex, then back again. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Noah forced a tired chuckle, shaking his head. “I promised Ruth I’d stop by. This is my partner, Alex Marcel.”

Melanie’s grip on the door tightened slightly, her expression barely shifting. But Noah saw it—the momentary hesitation, the slight flicker of discomfort.

She didn’t trust this.

Good.

“Ruth’s at the Blackwell Institute for Trauma now.” He kept his voice steady, measured. “She’s worried about you, but she’s still too sick for visitors.”

That part wasn’t a lie.

Melanie’s lips parted slightly, and Noah caught the smallest flicker of something in her expression—concern? Guilt? Or just the realization that Ruth was now somewhere secure, untouchable?

Before Melanie could form a response, Luke’s voice drifted from inside. “Who is it?”

Melanie’s mask slipped back into place. She pushed the door open just enough to let them see Luke standing behind her, his hands tucked into his pockets, his posture loose but aware.

His expression was calm, unreadable—but Noah didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked toward him and Alex.

Then, smoothly, Luke played along. “Noah.” He nodded as if this was nothing more than a casual visit, as if he wasn’t standing in the middle of a mess about to collapse in on itself.

Noah didn’t blink. Didn’t waver.

* * *

Ruth stirred,sleep still clinging to her limbs, thick and heavy. For a brief moment, she lingered in the space between waking and dreaming, that hazy in-between where she almost believed she could see again. But as she shifted, blinking against the darkness, reality settled in like a stone in her chest.

Still blind.

Still waiting for something, anything to change.