Page 26 of Doyle

"I still can't believe she got away again,” I muttered, feeling frustrated. "Every time we get close, she slips through our fingers."

"She's good at escaping,” Zane agreed. "But we'll catch her eventually. We've taken down some of her key supporters. It's only a matter of time before she makes a mistake."

I clenched my fists, struggling to rein in my emotions.

"Michael, William and the other victims deserve to see her brought to justice. After everything he and the others have been through... they deserve peace,” I pointed out.

"And they’ll get it," Zane assured me. "We'll make sure of it."

The confidence in Zane’s voice gave me reassurance. I thought of how I’d initially mistaken Michael for William.

At first, I even wanted to believe Michael was a reincarnation of him, but that was wrong.

Michael was his own person, with his own quirks and distinct personality.

William’s death nearly destroyed me. Vengeance kept me going, but after so long, I finally found a new reason to keep going.

I took a deep breath, trying to push away the past nd focus on the present.

"You're right. I'll wait a few days before contacting Michael. He needs time to adjust,” I said.

Zane nodded. "Good. In the meantime, we'll keep gathering information. We can't let our guard down,” Zane said.

I agreed, though my thoughts were already drifting to Michael.

I wondered how he was doing, if he was settling in with his father, if he was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him.

My dragon stirred restlessly inside me, impatient and frustrated.

I knew it would take every ounce of my strength to stay focused and patient.

"One step at a time," I reminded myself, echoing Zane's earlier advice. "We'll get there."

Zane clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"We would finish what we started all those years ago, Doyle,” Zane told me.

As I returned to my room, my mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Michael and the unfinished business with Liliana.

Just as my head hit the pillow, my phone beeped.

I picked it up from the nightstand and smiled when I saw Michael's name flashing across the screen. I immediately answered.

"I hope you don't mind me calling you at such a late hour," Michael began.

I glanced at the wall clock in front of my bed.

"It's 11 pm, not late at all," I said.

"Oh, right... I guess I just wanted to hear your voice. Is that bad?" Michael asked, a little uncertainly.

"I'm glad you called," I said. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?"

I realized that should have been the first question I asked.

"Nothing like that," Michael said. "I wanted to hear a familiar voice. Everything here feels foreign."

He went on to tell me how nothing about the house he grew up in had changed.

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