POV: Ivy
The folder on the desk was heavy, bound in black leather that felt like cold, dead skin. I stared at it, the weight of the names inside pressing down on me like a physical burden. Across the desk, Silas watched me. He hadn't moved a muscle. He sat there like a monolith of shadow and steel, his presence so vast it seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room, leaving me gasping in his wake.
"Open it," he commanded.
His voice wasn't loud, but it had that low-frequency vibration that made my heart stutter. It was the voice of a man used to being obeyed by armies. I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly as I flipped the cover. The sound of the paper rustling was deafening in the silent study.
Inside were photographs. Grainy, high-resolution shots taken from a distance—the kind o
