Han's POV
I stood in the crowd, letting the muted chatter around me blur into a low hum. My eyes danced across the faces gathered some familiar, most not searching for one person. Tyler. He hadn't come to give his condolences… or maybe for me to give him mine.
We both lost Azazel. And I know—despite all the walls he throws up—she must have meant something to him. She was the kind of woman you couldn't help but respect, even if you tried to pretend otherwise.
My gaze shifted to Eric and Anne standing in the corner, their heads thrown back in laughter. Anne's hand rested protectively on her belly. I moved toward them slowly, the glass in my hand untouched.
"Han!" Anne spotted me first and pulled me into a hug before I could even say a word. Her arms were warm, familiar.
"Thank God you're safe," she whispered close to my ear. "Tyler was really scared."
I offered a small smile. "Was he?"
