Wren’s Pov
"Family" is not a word anyone has used about me in five years, and hearing it come out of Priya's mouth felt like a hand closing around my throat.
"What does he look like?" My voice came out steady. That's the only trick I've ever really mastered.
"Older. Grey suit. Very polished." She was still staring at her phone. "Security's stalling him at the desk but he's not leaving, Wren. He asked for you by your actual last name. Hale. How does a stranger know your last name?"
I didn't answer. I was already moving, not toward the elevator, not toward Damian's office, but toward the stairwell at the far end of the floor, because I have spent five years mapping every exit in every building I've ever worked in and I was not about to test whether this one still worked.
It worked. Twel
