Lena's POV
I didn't leave my room the next morning.
Not a conscious decision, I looked at the ceiling and the ceiling looked back and neither of us had anything compelling to offer the other. So I stayed where I was, on top of the covers, still dressed from the night before, the folder on the nightstand where I'd eventually placed it when my hands got tired of holding it.
I'd slept eventually. Not well — the kind of sleep that doesn't refresh so much as interrupt, full of fragments that weren't quite dreams and weren't quite thoughts. My uncle's face. The photographs in the folder. The particular quality of Damian's expression when he'd said I know what I took from you.
The morning moved around me. I heard the house wake up — Mara's footsteps on the lower floor, the distant sound of t
