Page 91 of Built for Mercy

I smiled. Or IthoughtI did.

It didn’t feel like my face.

The pressure in my chest built, tight, suffocating, and for a terrifying second, I swore the floor wasn’t beneath me anymore. Like I was watching this happen instead of being inside my body.

I dug my nails into my palm. Hard. Harder.

The pain grounded me. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe I was already slipping too far.

“Hey,” Callie said suddenly, the joy in her eyes dimming as she caught sight of my face. “You look… I don’t know, thinner? Are you okay?”

No.

No, I wasn’t okay. But I forced my lips to move, somehow forced my breath to steady even though it felt as if I was choking on air.

“Fine,” I lied smoothly, brushing off her worry with a casual tilt of my head. I’d purposely selected a black wide-leg jumpsuit to conceal it as much as possible. Today was all about Callie. “Maverick and I just had a little argument, that’s all. He’s notexactly morning sunshine when things don’t go his way.”Half-truth. I can manage that to her face on her wedding day.

“Men,” she huffed, rolling her eyes in shared understanding before turning her attention back to Liam.

They exchanged vows in a quiet corner of the building, the officiant’s words a soft murmur that somehow resonated through the entire space. Callie’s hands trembled slightly as she slid the ring onto Liam’s finger, a promise wrapped in the warm glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the tall windows.

“By the power vested in me,” the officiant declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

A cheer erupted from the few of us present—their siblings and myself—happiness that should have pierced the numbness consuming me. But as they kissed, sealing their commitment to each other, a pang of longing twisted inside me, sharp and bitter—the taste of Maverick’s absence on my tongue.

I was a bad friend. I deserved all the bad juju following me around.

“Congratulations,” I whispered when they broke apart, stepping forward to embrace them both. The warmth of their bodies was a reminder of what I was missing—a heat that didn’t burn me, didn’t leave scars. It was a flame I yearned for, one that beckoned me toward a future I wasn’t sure I could claim.

“Thank you, Soph,” Callie murmured against my hair, squeezing me tight. “Wish he could’ve been here. It would be good for them to bond.” Her eyes flickered to her now husband.

“Me, too,” I said, the words catching in my throat. I pulled away and plastered on a grin as if it were armor. “Now, let’s get out of here and celebrate.”

But as we exited the solemn city hall, the bustle of New York swirling around us, I felt the magnetic pull of what I’d left behind—and I knew that no amount of forced happiness could fill the void I’d created.

***

Their siblings parted ways with us before we spilled into the dimly lit bar, a stone’s throw away from city hall, with its neon signs flickering like errant sparks. It felt like old times.

Life was so much easier back then.

Callie and Liam were pure joy, their newlywed glow an almost tangible aura that drew knowing smiles from the other patrons.

“First round’s on me,” I announced, sidling up to the bar with the kind of confidence that comes from being alone in a familiar city. Something I’d done countless times since Callie left Newark.

The bartender, a guy with tattoos of a forest climbing up his forearms, nodded as if he understood the occasion without needing it spelled out. I handed Maverick’s credit card over, because apparently I was accepting my role as a gold digger—and also desperate for him to come find me.

I was making it so fucking easy.

“Champagne,” Callie chimed in, her eyes sparkling brighter than the glasses soon filled with bubbling liquid gold.

“Make mine a vodka,” I countered, leaning back against the bar, my gaze tracing the contours of the room—the cracked leather of the booths, the sticky surface of the bar. The irony wasn’t lost on me that I once told Liam that vodka was Callie’s liquor of choice when coping with depression, and here I was drinking the same.

I passed our drinks around, sparing no time tossing my vodka back.

“Easy there, Detective,” Liam teased, clinking his glass against my empty one. “Don’t go solving all the world’s mysteries tonight.”

The warmth of the alcohol unfurled in my stomach, a temporary reprieve, a welcome distraction. “No promises,Sergeant.”