"He's looking straight at us." Marcus's voice was barely a breath, but the urgency in it was unmistakable.
Caleb held his glass raised, his gaze fixed on the archway, and for one endless second nobody in the corridor moved at all.
Then someone near him leaned in to speak, and his attention broke, sliding away toward whoever had interrupted the toast.
The four of us exhaled almost in unison.
"That's our window," Lucien said. "We separate now, before he finishes his glass and starts looking again."
"Damien," I said quickly, before he could turn away. "If he asks you anything tonight, what do you tell him."
"The truth I've already given him for six months," Damien said. "That I saw nothing tonight worth reporting. It's thin. It won't hold forever."
"How long," Lucien asked.
"Days. May
