Page 103 of Her Soul to Own

“Don’t worry,” I murmur, already moving to check another screen. “I know what I’m doing.”

We end the call, and the room goes silent again, the whirring of the machines a constant companion as I go back to scanning the information. The pieces are all falling into place, but I know there’s still more. More lies and more players Ihaven’t seen yet in the shadows. I’m not stopping until I’ve burned every last one of them to the ground.

Evander. Declan. Harper. They thought they could use Lyra as a pawn in their game.

Well, I’m going to show them just how wrong they were.

I shut down the system with a few keystrokes, the glow from the screens dimming slowly. I grab my jacket and walk to the door, setting my jaw. It’s time to make my next move.

XXX

The hallway outside Zara’s apartment feels like a damn waiting room for disaster. My boots are silent on the carpet as I stand there and stare at her door like it’s the last thing standing between me and some ugly truths. I don’t knock. I’m not here for pleasantries. Neither am I here to hear her excuses or apologies. I’m here to see where her loyalties really lie.

When she answers, she’s a mess. Her mascara is smudged, and the hoodie she’s wearing is way too big for her small frame. I know the look well… it’s the one people get when they realize they’ve been playing in a game they don’t understand. The only difference is that Zara is still trying to play catch-up while I’m standing at the edge of the cliff, ready to dive in.

She pauses, glancing at me like she’s trying to size me up, like I’m the one who’s dangerous here. Hell, Iamdangerous. But she’s not wrong to be wary. “Is this about Harper?” she asks, her voice a little too defensive for my liking, like she’s already preparing herself for what’s coming.

I don’t waste time with small talk. “This is about Declan. And Evander.”

Her eyes widen, and she steps back like she’s afraid I’ll walk straight through her. Too bad I don’t need an invitation.

I brush past her without a word, my eyes already scanning the apartment.

Zara’s place is exactly what one would expect. It’s spotless, curated, and almost cold. It’s clean lines and sleek furniture, with everything in its right place. There’s no clutter or mess. No signs of life, really, just a sterile, controlled calm that feels less like peace and more like absence.

But something’s missing. And it’s not just throw pillows or wall art. It’s thefeelof the place… like no one reallyliveshere. Like it’s merely a stage set waiting for someone who never shows up.

There’s no laughter, no warmth, no mess, no people.

And for the first time, I feel sorry for someone rich.

From her files, I know she’s not like Lyra. She’s not the kind of person who walks into a room and pulls gravity with her. No one worships Zara from afar. She doesn’t collect admirers or command attention. Her world is small. Intentionally, maybe. But still… small.

Her only real friend is Lyra, who isn’t speaking to her right now. Her father died when she was young, and her mother, detached and neglectful, lives halfway across the country and barely picks up the phone.

Zara’s built her life like this apartment—minimal, contained, and protected from harm. But also, unfortunately, protected from connection.

And tonight, I can feel it in the walls. She’s completely alone.

I set a printed document on her counter, one of the many pieces of the puzzle that I’ve pieced together. “You need to provide information about Declan and anyone who’s been around you. Your friends… the ones you trust. It’s for Lyra’s protection.”

Zara glances at the paper and then back at me, her hands trembling slightly. “You think Evander would…?” Her voice cracks, disbelief washing over her face.

I lean in a little closer, watching her carefully and studying her reactions like I’m analyzing a target.

“He didn’t pull the trigger,” I say, my voice unsympathetic. “He loaded the gun. And Declan has been aiming it at Lyra from the start. You’re just too close to see it.”

The bitterness in her laugh is like acid. “You think Lyra will believe this?”

I pause. I could tell her the truth, but it’s not my job. “She doesn’t need to believe it yet,” I say in a low voice. “But you do.”

Zara looks down at the paper. She swallows hard, her fingers curling around the edges like she wants to rip it up. But she’s not stupid. She knows the game. And she can’t just ignore this. Nobody can.

She inhales shakily, rubbing her forehead, then sits down on the couch. The immensity of the situation is pressing down on her, and I can see it. I can see the way she’s falling apart, piece by piece. She’s trying to hold it together, but there’s nothing left of her façade.

“I slept with Declan,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. It’s so quiet that I almost miss it.

Her eyes stay fixed on the floor, but I see the way her hands tremble and how her throat tightens around the next words.

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