I read the message twice.
Then I set my phone on the table and looked at Damian, who was still sitting across from me with a cup of coffee that had already started to go cold.
"Adrian sent a message," I said.
He read it from the screen I slid toward him.
There was no big reaction—just the way his eyes lingered on the second sentence a little longer than the first. A sign I already knew how to interpret.
"Nathan is moving faster than three days," he said.
"Yeah."
"That means he already knows more than we thought."
"Or someone has told him more than we know."
Damian placed my phone back on the table. He looked around the room for a moment—not looking at anything in particular, just the gaze of someone rearranging something inside his head.
"The driver disappeared," he said quietly.
