Page 90 of Legacy Elite

Not an envelope. Just a card, heavy stock, about the size of a postcard, sitting square in the middle of my duvet.

It's got a border printed round the edge in burnt orange.

Inside the border, in the center, there's a shape — a rough panel, a recessed circle, the sort of thing you'd draw if you'd stood in a wood and looked at a boundary stone with the crest chiseled off it.

And through the middle of it, somebody's put a single hard line.

Underneath, in plain block capitals:

LEAVE IT BURIED.

I don't scream. I don't move. I stand in the middle of my bedroom in my socks and look at a piece of card on my bed, and the thing that arrives first isn't fear at all.

It's rage.

Because somebody stood here.

In this room. Where I sleep. Where I keep my things and leave my drawer stuck and put my head down at night in a building I didn't want to move into, in housing they gave me because it was safer, with a desk downstairs and a person sitting at it.

Somebody walked in here and looked around and put that on my bed and walked out again.

"Jessica?" Sophia calls from the other room. "Do you have any of the—"

"Freya."

I don't say it loudly, but something in my voice must carry because I hear footsteps almost immediately.

"What?"

She appears in the doorway just as I reach for the card.

Her eyes go from me to the bed.

"Don't touch it."

My hand stops.

Freya crosses the room and looks down at the card without getting any closer than she has to.

For a second, neither of us says anything.

Then everything in her face closes down.

"Sophia," she says, not loudly. "Go get Declan and Renzo. Don't run and don't tell anyone in the corridor. Then find security."

Sophia appears behind her. "What's—"

"Now, Sophia."

She sees my face, then Freya's, and goes.

I look back at the card.

The next twenty minutes are the strangest of my life.

Freya doesn't let anyone past the doorway, which is how I end up standing in my own sitting room while people examine my bedroom. She's got a page out of her notebook and she's writing down times: when I left this morning. When I got back. Who's been in the room since. What I touched. What I noticed and in what order.

"The drawer," she says. "Say it again."