POV: Evie
The photo was still on Cole's phone when she saw it. He hadn't meant for her to look—he'd turned the screen away fast, jaw locked, that particular stillness descending over himlike a shutter dropping. But she'd caught the angle, caught The photo was still on Cole's phone when she saw it. He hadn't meant for her to look—he'd turned the screen away fast, jaw locked, that particular stillness descending over himher own face in the lantern light, caught the timestamp, and the math had done itself in her head before she could stop it. Four minutes ago. Inside the compound.
"Someone's been in here," she said.
Cole didn't answer, which was its own answer.
"Cole." She kept her voice low, clinical, the same register she used when she needed a patient to hear her through their panic.
