e floor of the hallway. The corridor was dimly lit, vast and silent, the air cold an

Jarret wasn't at his desk. He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling wi

Jace's stiff formality, and stepped fully into the r

ard a hidden drawer in his desk-a drawer that Leo's hacked blueprints had identified

voice was gruff, laced with irrita

ok up at the imposing man who was his father. He had to push thi

night," Leo said, his

ears, Jace had never, not once, sought him out for any reason other than

his small arms, an awkward, hesitant gest

d at the boy's outstretched arms as if they were snakes, complet

ray with a single, thick envelope. He did not set it down. "A special courier arrived. I recognized the return seal. It is from

ck, heavy, and suffocating. Jarret's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked violently in his cheek. His gaze

low, guttural snarl. He gripped the edge

tion. "Sir, she wrote a memo on the exterior. It mentions a pu

name-Katia-was li

ot, knocking over his heavy leather desk cha

c anguish, he hurled it across the room. It shattered against the stone fireplace, exploding into

th his arms, his heart h

e tremors, the kind Leo had only read about in medical journals on PTSD, took over

ll, his voice cracking with agony. "She is d

. He was beginning to understand the depth of the trauma, the sh

lding the boy with his own body. "Master Jace," he urged gent

detail of Jarret's breakdown-the genuine, soul-deep p

or clicked shut behind him, cutting off the s

t. He processed the explosive reaction to the two names. Janeen. Kati

e. He navigated the dark web interface,

w, typing a rap

lent reaction to names Janeen and K

longer just investigating. He was going to uncover exactly what