Selene’s PovThe estate was silent when we broke through the side door, dust thick over furniture draped in sheets, no sign of Naomi anywhere.“Twenty-three minutes,” I said, checking my phone. “Damien, she’s not here.”“Keep moving,” he said. “Check every room.”We split the ground floor between us, and I found the study at the end of the hall, papers scattered across a desk that hadn’t been touched in years, photographs pinned haphazardly to a corkboard like someone had once tried, obsessively, to map something out.“Damien.” My voice came out strange even to my own ears. “Come look at this.”He was beside me in seconds, and together we stared at a photograph, faded but unmistakable — three men standing in front of this exact building, decades younger.“That’s my father,” Damien said slowly.“And that’s Victor Cross,” I said, pointing to the second man. “Marcus mentioned him once, one of Helena’s early associates.”“Who’s the third,” Damien asked, though something in his voice told
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