They both remained silent as they were riding back. Not in the car. Not as they passed out of the building into the open air. Not even in the silent area between movement and stillness. Aria sat with the folder on her lap, her hand lying lazily over the folder, not holding it, not protecting it, but there. A silent recognition of its weight without a gulp of her. Beside her, Luctien watched the city disappear down the streets in glimpses of glass and light.
Victor had not lifted up his voice. And that was what Lucien was most disturbed with. No denial. No deflection. No attempt to rewrite what had happened. Just certainty. And that certainty was what made him dangerous.
By the time they reached the house, the shift had already started. It did not come easily — there were no messages at
