Page 107 of Dublin Beast

I glance down at the pale yellow envelope, my name lovingly written on the front in Yasmine’s loopy handwriting. I lift it to my nose to smell it, hoping to find Yasmine’s floral scent, but it’s been too long in Ashwin’s to smell like anything but Indian cuisine.

Riya kept it tucked in a wooden box in the back office and promised Yasmine to give it to me once it seemed I was ready to heal.

But she never got the chance.

Or maybe Yas knew it would take me years.

I hold it between my fingers, my heavy heart thudding an aching rhythm. If it were possible, I’d swear it wants to burst right out of my chest.

The paper of the envelope is soft. Worn. It feels like it belongs to another lifetime. Another man. One I’m not sure I remember how to be.

I should open it.

I should honor Yasmine’s love and read whatever last piece of her she left behind. But my hands won’t move.

What if hearing her thoughts shatters what little bit of myself I’ve pulled back together?

What if her words were time sensitive and me waiting so long ruined her thoughts for me?

Another thing for her to be disappointed about.

Time passes as the evening grows dark outside my windows. The streets grow quiet. And still, I can’t bring myself to break the seal.

My phone buzzes in the center console and I jump.

I blink, dragged out of the moment, and slide the letter into the inside pocket of my leather jacket—tucking it close to my heart for when I’m ready.

It’s waited four years—it can wait a little longer.

I swipe my thumb across the screen and lift the phone to my ear. “Yeah?”

“Hey, boss. It’s Drake.”

The sound of his voice eases something tight in my chest. I lean back against the headrest, eyes still on the restaurant windows, and let myself breathe.

“She all right?” I ask, skipping the preamble.

“She’s good,” he says. “Better than I’ve seen her since we got back. She's been relentless, boss. Locked in. Like a bloodhound with a scent. And today it paid off.”

I close my eyes, exhaling slow.That’s my girl.

“What’d she find?”

“She secured the guest lists.” Ihearthe grin in his voice. “She has the names of the attendees for the dates when her friends and her friend’s sister disappeared. The names on those lists… it's a fucking gold mine. Politicians, businessmen, high rollers. Harper’s about to blow this shit wide open.”

Pride wells up so fast I nearly choke on it.

That’sexactlywhat I knew she could do. Tenacious, brilliant, dogged as hell. When Harper sinks her teeth into something, she doesn’t let go—not until the truth is laid bare, bleeding in front of her.

Fuck, I miss her.

I can picture the look on her face when she got that list of names, but it would’ve been so much better to have been there to share it.

But I don’t regret giving her space.

The time apart has been an exercise in walking around in a semi-aroused and fully frustrated state, but it’s been good too. Necessary.

I wasn’t whole. I’m still not. Not while I carry Yasmine’s ghost with me, a shield and a wound. I’ve been so tangled up in guilt, memories, and anger, I couldn’t give Harper what she deserved even if she had wanted me.

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