Harry’s legs almost gave way. He had never seen anything like it in his life. Bill Mosely, Dante’s brutal muscle, reduced to a quivering mass of tears and snot by the quiet, unassuming man standing before him. Charlie looked at him for a moment. It was a searching look, but then he took him by the arm and led him back to the study.
“I think you had best tell me all. They will no doubt be back.”
Harry crumpled into the chair by the fireside and ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes for a moment as he steeled himself.
“From the beginning? We may not have a lot of time,” Charlie prompted.
Harry sucked in a breath, straightened his spine, and stared into the fire. His head and ears were still ringing with the spectacle that he had just witnessed. He looked up at Charlie, seeing him in
