8Tobias was standing in the darkened upstairs corridor,a storm drumming against the windows in repetition, fists of rain punching. But inside—inside was w,orse.

He leaned over the railing, knuckles white, chestheaving.

She lied to me.

The thought came backto her in the same way, like a curse. He felt hollow, gutted.

Everything he knew of Ivonne—her love, her warmth,her unwavering loyalty turned to ash in his hands. The honeyin her voice, the tenderness of her touch, the ...