Page 76 of Claim

“One has to be careful.” He flicked his attention back to me. “Particularly at the start of a career, not to confuse principle with… attachment.”

Mercer shifted beside me, tension spiking, but I kept my face neutral. Professional. Still.

Wolfe smiled faintly, as if satisfied. “I won’t take up more of your time.” He turned back to Imogen. “I merely wanted to ensure you knew that this case has attracted attention. Unhelpful attention in some quarters.”

Imogen’s expression hardened. “Is that a warning?”

“An observation.” Wolfe smoothed his jacket. “It would be a shame for a junior of such promise, and from such an established family, to find himself exposed by a matter that carries… wider consequences.”

I didn’t react.

Imogen held Wolfe’s gaze for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was steel-wrapped silk. “Thank you for your concern. Chambers is quite capable of managing its own affairs.”

“I’m sure,” Wolfe said. “You always are.”

He glanced at me one last time, a look that said I know where you are, I know who you love, and I’m still here.

Then he twisted the knife. “And your father, Tristan. How is the treatment progressing?”

“He’s fine,” I snapped, irritation at him knowing my personal information and using it to disarm me striking a nerve.

“Wonderful news. One hopes recovery, in such circumstances, is allowed to proceed without distraction.” He then nodded and stepped back, allowing the clerk to reappear, murmuring polite goodbyes as if this had been nothing more than a professional courtesy call.

The door closed.

Imogen exhaled through rounded lips. Mercer swore under his breath.

“Well,” Mercer said. “That’s cheered me right up.”

Imogen turned to me. “You didn’t tell him anything.”

It wasn’t a question.

She wouldn’t accuse me outright of leaking anything, deliberately or otherwise. Not with my name, my family, and my place in chambers. But she was checking all the same.

“No.” I shook my head. “I haven’t said a word.”

“Good.” She straightened. “Then whatever Wolfe thinks he knows, it isn’t coming from you. Which tells me exactly how seriously we need to take this. Lord Wolfe, no matter how high a circle he moves in, does not get to decide how this case is run.”

She went back to the table and gathered the bail papers, holding them to her chest with decisive finality.

“This,” she tapped the papers, “just became non-negotiable.”

I nodded, unable to deny the flicker of relief that followed. Not because Imogen hadn’t been committed before, but because, until now, there had always been the risk she might see this as my weakness steering her hand. That my investment in Razor blurred the professional lines.

Wolfe had just erased that doubt for her. He gave her something far cleaner than loyalty or sympathy: a target. Imogen despised men like Lord Wolfe. Men who mistook access for authority, who assumed the world bent quietly around them and that consequences were for other people. She didn’t just enjoy toppling Goliaths. She made a career of it.

And I was there to reap the benefits.

Chapter thirteen

Razor

I was halfway through my push-ups, shirtless in only boxers, when the door went and Dent stepped inside my solitude.

I didn’t stop. If they were moving me again, they could wait until I hit the hundred. So I shifted my weight and did the last few one-armed to make a point.

Seg hadn’t broken me yet.