Lana slowly turned her head toward Liam, her brows slightly furrowed, a hint of disbelief in her voice.
"So your dad," she said, pointing toward Liam, "got your dad killed?" She shifted her finger toward Vanessa.
Vanessa didn't flinch. She nodded slowly, her expression unreadable—calm, composed… maybe even detached. But her eyes held an old storm, one buried deep beneath the surface.
"Yes," she said.
Liam stared at her, trying to gauge how she meant it. There was no bitterness in her tone, no blame in her voice.
Vanessa gave a small shrug, then locked eyes with him. "But don't worry. It's not like I hate you for it."
Liam chuckled softly. "I wasn't worried."
And he wasn't. His tone was cool, but his thoughts were elsewhere. His eyes scanned the room again, trailing along the strange high-tech suits hanging neatly on the wall. Sleek, matte, armored, tailored perfectly for a woman's body. One caught his attention—black and violet with built-in tactical belts and gauntlets.
