Page 33 of Fang Fatale

She's tired. Clever. And so full of wariness it changes the shape of a room when she walks into it.

I stack Leland's file on my desk—well, technically it's a file box now, brimming with everything from property records to wax-sealed correspondence. The man is nothing if not thorough...and terrifyingly analog. His handwriting looks like it was designed in a lab to induce migraines.

I run a finger along the folder's edge and reread the note I'd scribbled on the inside cover.

She was supposed to love me.

Underlined twice.

The rest of the file is a case study in the kind of grandeur that can only be assembled by someone with disposable income and, quite possibly, a god complex.

Leland's grievances, cataloged in looping script:

• Unreasonable dietary restrictions (refusal to attend steakhouse events)

• Chronic lateness for functions of public importance (ambiguous avoidance)

• Uncontrolled emotional outbursts (see Christmas party, incident at his parents' home)

• Evasive about finances, uninterested in hobbies, mutters to herself, and inexplicably left engagement brunch before speeches

He never called her Birdie.

Only she.

Only the girl.

Only future Mrs. Brooks when he was feeling especially unhinged.

I pull the photograph clipped to the first page.

Birdie stands at some cursed society gala, her hair shellacked into submission, her smile stretched just this side of panic. But it's her eyes that hold me.

Too direct for the room.

They have the look of someone trying to dig an escape tunnel with a teaspoon.

I stare at the picture longer than I should.

My phone buzzes.

Cassian's name flashes across the screen, accompanied by a grainy selfie of him holding two chili cheese dogs overhead like championship trophies.

I ignore the photo.

The reminder, however, is useful.

I was supposed to meet him at the Grey Ghost half an hour ago.

He's already halfway through his second beer when I arrive.

"You look like hell," he says without preamble.

"That's because I haven't slept."

I slide the file box beneath the table and steal one of his fries.

He snorts.