[Jake's POV]
Darius kept one hand against my chest until I stopped looking like I might go down the stairs and remove Dr. Vale's teeth with the nearest antique lamp.
He did not push hard. He did not need to. Darius had a way of making stillness feel like a wall. I stood behind him in the upstairs corridor, staring past his shoulder at Vale below, while the folded cloth in my coat felt heavier than the photograph ever had.
**You are late, Mr. Hart.**
That was Sofia.
Not a plea. Not a cry for help. Not some fragile little message left by a woman waiting to be rescued.
A reprimand.
A knife.
A sign of life with manners sharp enough to draw blood.
Claire touched my arm. "Jake."
"I know."
"No. Look at me."
I did.
Her face was pale, but steady. She knew the room had done exactly what it was designed to do. It had put Sofia's absence in front of me like a wound and waited to see whether I would bleed all over the floor.
"Do not give him what he wants," Claire said.
