(Liam Romano POV)
Dawn found me in the control room, the monitors throwing rectangles of pale light that never show enough. The house held its breath; that kind of quiet is deceitful. Every second can fracture into something ugly. The hallway clock kept its seven borrowed minutes—an old irritation I let sit. I don't correct it. The lie steadies me; it reminds me that nothing is ever entirely contained, not even in a room full of screens.
Costa slipped in without noise, the sort of entrance that belongs to men who have practiced not being noticed. He placed a printout on the desk—movements in the area. Nothing unusual. Too perfect. Perfection is a thin layer on top of danger. I slid the paper into the folder without comment.
Hailey was on my mind in small, constant ways: the soft sound o
