Lena's POV
I put the phone face down on the window seat.
Damian was looking at the screen — at Victor's message, at the timestamp, at the specific precision of the timing. Someone awake at four in the morning sending a message that arrived at the exact moment we were sitting in the library discussing him.
Not coincidence.
We both understood that without saying it.
"He has eyes inside this house," I said. "Still. Not Mara — she didn't know we were in the library tonight. Not Catherine." I looked at the window. "Something else. Something we haven't found."
Damian stood and moved through the library with a different kind of attention than usual — not looking at the books or the furniture but at the walls, the fixtures, the lamp on the reading table. The particular look of a man reviewin
