C239 239

Donovan Tang didn't move. He stood by the ancient bonsai, his presence as unyielding as the wood itself. The sweep of the headlights against the curtains signaled the arrival of a predator, but in this house, Donovan was the one who held the memories—and the scars.

"Don't worry, Madam Bishop," Donovan said, his voice dropping into a deep, comforting baritone. "I'll handle this