“Bishop belonged to her,” he continued, staring down at the dog. “He was with her that night. He took three bullets trying to protect her.”

I looked down at the dog’s scarred ribs, suddenly understanding the jagged, hairless lines in his gray coat.

“Since the day she died, Bishop has ignored everyone,” Lucian said. “Including me. He eats when he is fed, he walks when he is led, but he does not connect. He has not let another human hand touch his head in six years.”

I kept my hand still on Bishop’s head, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the wet fur.

The dog closed his eyes, leaning his heavy weight against my shin.

“I didn’t do anything special,” I said, looking up to meet Lucian’s gaze.

“You didn’t have to,” Lucian said. “He chose you. He looked at you the way he used to look at Elena.”

He stepped fully into the light of the lantern, and I saw the deep lines of exhaustion around his eyes.

The ruthless boss of the Draven syndicate looked suddenly human, haunted by a ghost I could not see.