The vampire in the corner office

The boxes

Mia's apartment had been ransacked.

Not obviously — nothing broken, nothing missing that a landlord's insurance would flag — but she knew the moment she stepped inside that someone had been through her mother's boxes. The tape on one was peeled back wrong. The blue cloth that usually wrapped the necklace's twin jewelry box was folded differently than she'd left it.

"Someone was here," she said, voice shaking.

Adrian was beside her instantly, senses flaring, the amber in his eyes bright and dangerous now instead of warm.

"Stay behind me."

The apartment was empty. Whoever had come was long gone, but they'd left one thing behind — dropped, maybe, in a hurry, wedged half under the couch: a photograph. Old. Faded. Two young women, arms around each other, laughing at the camera. One was unmistakably Elena. The other — younger, softer around the eyes, but unmistakably Mia's mother.

On the back, in handwriting Mia recognized instantly as her mother's: E. — if anything happens to me, the truth is with the necklace. Don't trust D.C. — C.

"D.C.," Adrian said slowly, and something like horrified understanding dawned across his face. "Damon Cole."

"Your COO?"

"My business partner for nine years. A man I trusted with everything." Adrian's jaw was iron. "Elena was investigating financial discrepancies before she died. She must have told your mother. And if Carol had proof—"

"Then whoever's been in my apartment wasn't looking for jewelry," Mia finished. "They were looking for evidence."

Adrian's phone buzzed. Marcus.

Cole made a call twenty minutes ago. Traced it to a contractor with a record. This isn't paranoia anymore, Adrian. Get her somewhere safe.

Adrian looked at Mia — really looked at her, two centuries of caution warring visibly with something fiercer.

"Pack a bag," he said. "You're not staying here tonight."