Her name is Petra.
She is twenty-three years old, she has her brother's dark eyes and none of his capacity for concealment, and she is standing in my safehouse kitchen looking at the assembled room with the terror of someone who made a decision that felt necessary and has just arrived at the part where the consequences are real.
She is also, visibly, not sent by Reves. Reves's people do not tremble. He selects for it.
"Sit down," I say.
She sits. Faye puts water in front of her, which is not something I would have thought to do and which I note without comment.
"How did you find this location?" I ask.
Petra wraps both hands around the water glass. "Damon," she says. "He told me. Before the safehouse, before your people moved me, he called me. He wasn't supposed to, he knew he wasn't
