Page 99 of Cold Mercy

The door swings open almost immediately, and James stands there, his expression shifting from confusion to pure, unadulterated horror the second he sees me. Tears finally spill over as the last of my defenses crumble in the light of their hallway.

“Elizabeth!” James shouts over his shoulder, his voice thick with alarm as he reaches out and practically yanks me across the threshold.

He doesn't ask questions or demand an explanation. He just pulls me into a tight, grounding hug. A second later, I hear the frantic patter of footsteps, and Elizabeth appears, her eyes wide with concern as she throws herself into the embrace. James opens his other arm to pull her in, and for a long moment, the three of us are just a tangled, shaking knot of bodies in the middle of their living room.

“I’m so sorry,” I sob. “I didn’t mean any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, Sophia, it’s okay,” Elizabeth whispers. “It’s already forgotten. James holds us both tighter. “Nothing happened,” he says. “Family fights sometimes, right? That’s what we do. But that means nobody gets to leave, and nobody gets left behind.”

James pulls back from the embrace, looking at both of us with that determination, his expression softening into something truly kind.

“Alright, enough of this for now. Sophia, go take a shower and get into something dry. You’re staying with us tonight, and I’m not taking 'no' for an answer,” he says, nudging me gently toward the hallway. “I made that pasta for dinner; the one you always pretend to like just so you don't have to tell me I'm a terrible cook.”

I let out a shaky, wet laugh. “I actually really like it, James. I'm not pretending.”

Elizabeth beams, reaching out to squeeze my hand as she catches my eye. “He knows that, Soph. He just wanted to hear you say something that wasn't an apology.”

I manage a small, genuine smile.

“Here is the plan,” James announces, already heading toward the kitchen to check on the stove.

“Tonight, we are going to watch The Office from the beginning for the fifth time in the history of our familiarity because we all need a distraction that involves bad jokes, and tonight I see mine are not enough. Tomorrow morning, first thing, we'll call my therapist, Dr. Keller. She’s incredible, and I think it's time for you to talk to someone. How does that sound to you, Sophia?”

“It sounds great,” I whisper, the gratitude thick in my throat. “Thank you. Both of you.”

CHAPTER 24

Thomas

The drive to the outskirts of the city is a blur. I pull into the same decommissioned post office parking lot, the asphalt cracked and grey under the overcast sky. Grace is already there, her car idling in the shadows. I kill the engine and wait for her to slide into the passenger seat. She’s holding a thick manila folder, her expression carefully neutral.

“Everything is handled,” I say, staring straight ahead at the crumbling brick wall. “I’ve broken all contact with Sophia. I resigned from James’s company this morning. Neither of them suspects a thing.”

“Good,” Grace says, a note of cold satisfaction in her voice. “I’m glad to hear it, Thomas. It’s better this way. For everyone.”

Better for everyone, right. It’s not better for me. I have no idea how I’m supposed to function now, how I’m even supposed to wake up tomorrow without feeling the massive, hollow ache where Sophia used to be. But I couldn't let Grace be the one to tell her. I couldn't let her hear from Grace's cold mouth that the only man she finally trusted was just an assignment.

I don’t answer, staring at my own knuckles on the steering wheel, my jaw locked tight. Grace reaches over and drops the folder onto my lap.

“You start tomorrow,” she says. “One of our people will be there to bridge you in.”

I flip the folder open and scan the first page. My stomach twists with a fresh wave of irritation.

“What is this?” I demand, looking at her for the first time. “These guys have nothing to do with Aurora. They’re just...pathetic street runners.”

Grace looks at me, her eyes cold and unyielding.

“Did you really think I’d put you back on a high-priority operation immediately after what you pulled with the Moreau case?” she asks.

“I lost my trust in you, Thomas. If you want to move up, if you want to eventually be more than just a detective, then you’re going to prove to me you still remember which side of the line you stand on.”

She opens the door, pausing for a second before stepping out into the cold air.

“Don't disappoint me again.”

She slams the door, and I’m left alone in the silence of the car.

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