Chapter 14
The study had become a second bedroom for Bruce. More nights than not, he drifted into sleep there, half-slouched in the leather chair, a bottle within arm’s reach. The fire in the hearth had long since died down, leaving only the faint scent of smoke clinging to the air.
When he woke at dawn, his head heavy and his throat dry, it took him a moment to remember where he was. His shirt was wrinkled, his collar undone, and the folder of documents Lyra had marked lay open on the desk. He stared at the notes written in her tidy hand, words meant to protect him, though they felt more like lifelines than corrections.
He rubbed his face and reached for the half-empty glass, the stale taste of brandy still clinging to it. He needed the burn, the way it dulled everything just enough to
