Raven stood in the doorway of Vincent's study, the scent of aged leather and whiskey drifting toward her. The graze on her shoulder had settled into a dull, constant ache that flared whenever she lifted her arm too high. She kept it low now, sweater sleeve pulled down over the bandage. The mansion held its breath around them, the war room empty for the first time in days. Outside the tall windows, night pressed against the glass like something waiting.
Vincent sat behind the heavy oak desk. The single lamp cast a low golden circle across the surface. An old ledger lay open in front of him, its pages yellowed at the edges, the Caruso crest embossed in faded black on the cover. He did not look up right away. His fingers rested on the edge of the page, motionless. The kind of pause that came before a decision.
She stepped inside and crossed to the desk.
"What did you find?"
