Damien POV
I sat in my office, awaiting Rachel's arrival.
An hour later, Rachel knocked softly before entering.
She'd changed into dark jeans and a simple sweater—modest, practical. Her eyes swept the room, taking in Vance at the desk with his iPad, Mark by the door, and Sullivan leaning against the bookshelf.
Her gaze lingered on Sullivan with clear uncertainty. She didn't recognise him.
Good. She shouldn't. He worked in the shadows.
"Sit," I said, gesturing to the chair across from my desk.
She obeyed, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes darting nervously between the men in the room.
Vance cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Mrs. Montrel, we've compiled a profile on your brother as requested." He tapped his iPad, pulling up a file. "Marcus Owens. Age twenty-eight. Curre
