The Quietest Bird

(continuation)The knock

She finally allowed two tears to fall—not for Adrien, not for Liam, but for the version of herself who had knocked on that door hoping for something good.

That girl was gone.

In her place was someone else. Someone who recorded conversations. Someone who smiled at her enemies. Someone who would burn their whole world down and hand them the matches with a pleasant "thank you."

She wiped her face, flushed the toilet for appearances, and walked to the sink.

In the mirror, a woman with red-rimmed eyes and a steady gaze stared back.

"Okay," Cate whispered to her reflection. "Round one goes to them. But the fight isn't over."

She reached into her bag for lipstick and her fingers brushed against something small and cold.

She froze.

Slowly, she pulled out the object.

It was the brooch.

Not the one she'd been wearing—the one Liam had stolen. A different one. Smaller. Older. Tarnished with age. A tiny bluebird with a sapphire eye.

She stared at it, uncomprehending. She had never seen this brooch before in her life. And yet it had been in her bag. The bag she'd searched frantically in the corridor. The bag she'd had with her all evening.

How?

A folded piece of paper was pinned beneath the clasp. With trembling fingers, she unfolded it.

The handwriting was unmistakable. Aunt Rose's elegant, looping script.

My dearest Cate,

If you are reading this, you have already lost the decoy. Good. That means the wolves are circling. They think they've taken your treasure. Let them.

The real treasure has been with you all along. The bluebird flies only for you. Inside its belly is everything they fear.

Be brave, my girl. Be clever. And remember—the quietest bird sings the loudest when it finally opens its beak.

With all my love,

Aunt Rose

Cate's hand closed around the brooch.

The USB. It was inside the bluebird.

She had the evidence. She'd had it all along.

A slow smile spread across her face—not the practiced, pleasant smile she'd worn upstairs, but something sharper. Something dangerous.

Round two, she thought, tucking the brooch safely into her bra where no one would think to look. Round two is mine.

She walked out of the restroom, hailed a taxi, and gave the address of the one place Liam would never think to look for her: The Lawyer on Birch Street.