Page 6 of Cold Mercy

“Im truly sorry for your loss, Ms Moreau,” she says quietly. “There was nothing anyone could do.”

She pauses, letting the weight of the words settle, before her tone shifts back.

I don’t even process it before she keeps going.

“Unfortunately, we don't have much time. I need to ask you some questions about Mr. Mercer’s business dealings. We’ve been investigating a network called Aurora for years, and recent evidence suggests that Noah was deeply involved. We need to know if you were aware of his activities, Ms. Moreau. For your own safety.”

The first reflex in my body is violence. I want to hit her hard enough so that she won't get up. Instead, I hold on to the edge of the chair I refused to take.

“I want to see him.”

She softens her chin a fraction, the only kindness she can afford.

“That isn’t possible, Ms. Moreau. Not now. It is an active homicide investigation. The medical examiner has taken jurisdiction over the body. It is now considered evidence, and strict chain of custody protocols are in effect. Until the autopsy is complete and all forensic evidence is processed, the morgue is a sealed crime scene. I can't let you contaminate a crime scene, even if that crime scene is him.”

“How dare you? ” I say, the words raw. “You tell me he died, alone, and in the same breath you accuse him. You won’t even let me say goodbye.”

Behind me, I hear quick steps. Elizabeth arrives with the registrar, eyes wide and wet, reaching for me. But I can't look away from the woman standing between me and Noah.

“Take your accusations somewhere else! You’re wrong, you hear me?”

My whole vision is starting to blur.

“Take his name out of your mouth!”

The anger burns clean through me. My knees give, the floor rises. Elizabeth drops with me, whispering my name like it could stitch anything back together.

Nothing lands. Noah is gone. The love of my life, my quiet, my reason to keep going. There is nothing without him.

Eenie, meenie, miny, moe, wasn't that a lovely show? The boy is gone, the game is done, now you're ruled by only one.

CHAPTER 2

THOMAS

We are parked inside a decommissioned post office in Lower Manhattan, a spot chosen for its shadows. Grace slides into the passenger seat of my ’67 Fastback without a greeting, smelling like cheap coffee.

“Tell me you have something,” she demands immediately. “Money is still moving. Mercer has been dead for almost two years. That means two years of your undercover mission without any major breakthroughs, Thomas, and we need a link.”

“The money moves because they kept it moving,” I answer, my voice flat.

“Mercer was a genius analyst, and he still caught a bullet. Moreau took over his empire with a smile on her face,” I continue.

Grace exhales a sharp breath through her nose. “Sterling usually doesn't leave loose ends. The question is why she isn't dead either.” Nothing about her expression changes.

“That’s what I intend to find out,” I say. “If she’s still breathing, it means she made herself indispensable. Or she cut a deal that Mercer wouldn't.”

Grace nods, her eyes dark with calculation. “I need to know what that deal is. Find out why Sterling lets her run the show.”

“I meet her tonight,” I say. “Through Calloway and Hart. Blond on Howard.”

“Remember the objective,” Grace warns, shifting into handler mode.

She’s young, pretty, and she plays the victim card well. Do not let her charm you. I don’t care what you think you see.”

I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles tightening slightly.

“She won't charm me,” I say. You don't get charmed by a file. You don't get charmed by a target. You analyze them, find their fractures, and press until they shatter. I intend to dismantle her.