The penthouse conference room looked like a paranoid’s basement. Maps taped over the expensive wallpaper. A laptop scrolling endless columns of data. Beside it, a stack of my mother’s old notebooks, their spines split and pages bristling with colored sticky notes.
Selene took one look at my face and stopped dead.
"What?"
I tossed Webb's envelope onto the polished wood. "A gift. Coordinates for a high-ranking Hound. Her name's Maren."
The name hit her like a physical blow. She didn't flinch, but her golden eyes just... hollowed out.
"Webb knows?"
"He knows she works for Cross. He doesn't know about Geneva, or you." I watched her face. "I didn't tell him."
Selene turned her back to me, staring out the glass. "Thirty-five years," she said. The words sounded scraped from her throat. "I'
