The apartment was quiet by 10 p.m.
Bram had been asleep since eight-thirty. Priva had gone home an hour ago. Neva was at the kitchen table with the EMBER operational file open in front of her and a cup of tea that had gone cold on the left side of the table where she'd set it while she was reading and not returned to. The file was the response documentation for the Crescent Fang contract review petition — four working days of preparation compressed into two, which was the pace she had set and the team had matched without being asked to.
She was three pages from the end when her phone rang.
Corbin.
She looked at the name for one ring. Picked up.
"It's late," she said.
"It is," he said. "I'm in Paris."
"Why are you in Paris?"
"My father's retirement celebration. I told you — end of t
