KRISTEN'S POV

Arden sat shackled to the steel chair, head bowed like he’d rehearsed defeat before I even walked in.

The interrogation room was small, stone-cold, one strip of light hanging low enough to cut his face in half. I stood on the other side of the table, arms crossed, Eliana’s scent still clinging to my clothes like a ghost.

I didn’t sit. I couldn’t. My whole body was locked in a tight, burning coil.

“Raise your head,” I said.

He didn’t.

So I slammed my ...