The house smelled faintly of vanilla and something citrus. Clean but not sterile. A small shelf near the TV caught his eye. Framed photos sat showing snapshots of a life she used to have. Kane moved closer.
The first picture he picked up showed Monica laughing, head tipped back, sunlight catching her hair. Her sister stood beside her, both of them mid-laugh. That kind of joy didn’t come from posing; it came from feeling safe, loved, and whole.
His jaw tightened. He had never seen her smile like that, which was a shame.
Another photo showed her with what looked like a group of friends at some outdoor festival, a drink in her hand, cheeks flushed from the sun. She looked happy and carefree.
A third picture elicited a growl from his throat. Monica tucked tightly against a man’s side, his arm wrapped around her like he thought he had a right to her. The guy wasn’t her brother or brother-in-law. Kane’s fingers curled around the frame.
He didn’t know the dude, but he already didn’t like him. Hell, he wanted to track his smug face down and knock his teeth in. No logical reason, but the instinct was there, hot and immediate, coiled under his skin.
He knew it wasn’t his place to feel that way, but the reaction was real, and he didn’t bother pretending it wasn’t.
He set the picture back down, harder than necessary, and glanced toward the hallway where Monica was changing. Griefhad carved lines into her face today. She was carrying the weight of her sister’s disappearance and now death, but these photos told the truth: she wasn’t built to stay broken. And if Kane had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t.
CHAPTER 13
Sloan cursed the second Steve’s foot crossed the office threshold. Of all the damn days, Steve was the last person he wanted to deal with.
“What?” Sloan’s voice came out deadly, quiet, and sharp enough to cut.
Steve froze mid-step, eyes widening like he was considering backing his ass right out the door. After a second, he apparently decided he wanted to live dangerously and kept going.
“Uh… Charger wanted me to take Kane’s identifications to him, but I wanted to check with you first.” Steve inched closer to the desk, watching Sloan like he expected him to leap over it and rip his head clean off. Honestly, the temptation was there.
“And why in the fuck,” Sloan growled, “do you think you need to check with me?”
He knew Steve didn’t deserve his rage, but he didn’t give a damn. Anyone walking into his office today would be getting the same treatment. He glanced at Becky’s empty desk, then snapped his attention back to Steve.
“Because I don’t want my ass chewed. Or to die,” Steve said, eyebrows raised like he was making a reasonable argument.
Sloan dragged a hand down his face. “Do whatever you want, Steve. Just make sure you’re covered if you’re on duty.”
“Yeah.” Steve nodded, then glanced at Becky’s empty chair before looking back at Sloan. “Human mates, huh?”
Sloan glared so hard he wished the phone would ring to give him an excuse to pick it up and escape the conversation that was about to happen.
“Before I turned Mira,” Steve went on, completely ignoring Sloan’s silent warning for him to shut the hell up, “all I did was worry about her. Almost lost my shit when she got the flu.”
Sloan growled low. “Steve?—”
“I was so worried, I went to her doctor’s appointment and demanded they fix her.” Steve snorted, shaking his head at himself. “Started a huge fight, but after leaving the doctor’s office, I felt better.”
“I’m really not in the?—”
“Is Becky anemic?” Steve cut in, oblivious to how close Sloan was to losing his shit.
Sloan’s jaw snapped shut as he glared. He was ready to blast Steve for interrupting him again, but that question caught him off guard.
“Not that I know of,” Sloan said slowly. He immediately regretted the next words even as he asked them. “Why?”
“I’ve been watching her lately,” Steve said—then, as if his brain caught up with his mouth, his hands shot up. “Not in a creepy stalker way.”
Sloan sighed. Yep. He regretted asking.
His phone, usually a nonstop buzz of calls and texts, sat silent on his desk as if mocking him.
“Just wanted to clear that up,” Steve added, snorting nervously while eyeing Sloan like he was trying to guess how many seconds he had left to live. “Sounded weird, even to me. I didn’t want you to think I was a creeper trying to pick up on your?—"