Ken heard the metallic clatter long before he saw anyone—sharp, abrupt, cutting through the stagnant air of the holding area like a blade. He pushed himself to his feet, exhaustion wrapped around his bones, but anticipation flickered across his features.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, straightening his posture as the guard keyed open the inner door.
Ken stepped forward, heart steadying, preparing himself for the conversation he had been waiting on.
But when the door opened.
When the figure stepped through…
When the perfume hit him, sweet and suffocating.
His breath stopped.
His entire body went cold.
Ophelia Welhaven stood in the visitation room.
The last person he wanted to see.
Not salvation.
But the serpent that had been coiling silently around his life for decades, tightening without him noticing until now, when the squeeze became lethal.
