HIS TO DESTROY
But down below, in a chamber where Lucien kept encrypted surveillance feeds and Isa worked like a ghost in the glow of a dozen monitors.
“I found something,” Isa whispered from across the dim-lit chamber, her voice not loud but sharp enough to pierce the haze.
Catalina stepped in, her robe trailing, soaked from rain she hadn’t even realized she walked through. Her face was pale, lips dry, but her spine was stiff. Ready.
Isa spun her screen.
The image was grainy.
It was a camera feed, timestamped six years ago. A hallway. A room door labeled with a red cross.
Bab Populer