The night smells like smoke and betrayal.
The fire at Warehouse 9 still burns behind my eyes,bright, hungry, unforgiving. Valen’s men are still searching the ruins, but I already know Maya’s gone. Whether she’s dead or disappeared again doesn’t matter. The fire was a message, and I understood it too well: someone wants to erase every trace of me.
Valen is pacing in the distance, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and cold. He’s talking in that tone he uses when he’s halfway between fury and control. I can’t hear the words, but I can read his body,shoulders squared, jaw tight, the faint twitch in his right hand when something he loves has been touched.
I should go to him. Tell him I’m fine, Tell him I’m not fine, Tell him anything.
But I can’t.
Because of the note in my pocket.
A not
