“Why?” I choked out. “Why Abel?”
Otto looked at me for a long moment before answering. “You weren’t the type men paid well for.”
My stomach folded in on itself so violently I nearly doubled over.
Blond.
Abel had beenblond.
Suddenly, I couldn’t stop seeing my brother at seven with sun-bleached hair falling in his eyes while he laughed at something stupid in the kitchen.
Otto hadn’t seen a kid. He’d seen a product.
“And me?” I asked hoarsely. “Afterward? You could’ve taken me too.”
“I could’ve.”
Randolph spoke quietly from beside him. “Kellerman was never motivated by money the way the others were. He enjoys proximity and embedding himself in people’s lives. Watchinggrief happen up close.” His mouth tightened faintly. “That’s what makes him dangerous.”
“I’m going to prove what you did,” I swore.
Otto grinned. “Good luck.”
Then his hand shot outward, fingers clamping around my throat hard enough to slam me backward against the edge of the table.
Pain exploded beneath my jaw.
I gasped, grabbing at his wrist while adrenaline detonated through me so violently my vision flashed white.
“You should’ve stayed out of this,” he snarled.
“Fuck. You.”
I drove my knee upward as hard as I could.
Otto doubled over with a strangled sound just as the café doors slammed open hard enough to rattle the glass.
“ARCHIE!”
Henry’s voice tore through the room.
I stumbled backward coughing, one hand flying to my throat while air scraped violently back into my lungs. My vision blurred instantly from adrenaline and lack of oxygen, but I still saw him.
Daddy.
Fury had hollowed him out.
His coat hung open from where he’d clearly shoved it on in a hurry, rain darkening the shoulders and the edges of his hair. Behind him came two men in tactical vests withFBIstitched across the front and a woman with dark hair twisted into a severe bun, her expression so sharp and controlled it immediately clicked into place.
The entire room exploded into motion at once.
“FBI!” one of the agents barked. “Hands where I can see them!”
Otto straightened slowly from where I’d hit him, one hand still pressed low against his stomach, while Randolph took a sharp step backward away from the table.
Henry didn’t even look at them.
He looked at me.