“Who sent this to you?”
Alina doesn’t answer right away.
She just stands there in my office, one hand still gripping the folded paper she forced into mine, her jaw tight like she’s holding back ten different reactions at once.
I don’t move either.
The paper crinkles in my fingers as I unfold it again, even though I already read it twice.
Your foundation will burn before Christmas.
No name. No number. No signature. Just printed words that look too clean for something this ugly.
I lift my eyes back to her. “Alina.”
She exhales sharply. “It was taped to the gate. Outside. Whoever did it knew the guards rotate at that exact time.”
That lands harder than the threat itself.
Someone watched.
Someone studied us.
My grip tightens on the paper. “Did anyone else see it?”
“No. I pulled it
