Becca's POV
I don't remember falling asleep all night. I remember the folder open on my kitchen table at two a.m., three hundred and eleven names blurring under a single bulb, and Ralph standing in the doorway saying my tea had gone cold an hour ago.
I remember taking my decision somewhere around four. I don't remember closing my eyes.
By the time the cab drops me at Maple House's gate, the sky had just become bright, signifying dawn, and the whole house is lit up like nobody there slept either.
They're waiting in the library, all of them.
Tony's slumped in a leather chair with his tie undone, looking like he hasn't decided whether to be furious or terrified.
Silas stands by the cold fireplace, arms crossed, a whiskey glass balanced on the mantel that I doubt has anything left in it
