The front gate stood open when we reached it, a handful of members already gathered in a loose, tense circle around something set carefully in the dirt just inside the perimeter, illuminated by the harsh glare of a security light overhead.
It was a box, plain wood, no larger than a shoebox, and even from several feet away I could see the note tucked beneath the twine securing its lid, my name written across it in handwriting I did not recognize but somehow already knew belonged to Silas Cade.
Nobody move, Ronan said sharply, stopping everyone before they got closer. Could be rigged.
Otis crouched at a careful distance, studying it with the eye of someone who had defused exactly this kind of threat before. No wires, he said after a long moment. No scent of explosives either. Just paper,
