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Her scent grew stronger near the fireplace. The iron was cold. Two pokers there. One was missing. Nothing went missing in this place. Not without my finding it. I followed her scent along the hallway to the south wing before it disappeared. Cold air snuck in through the cracks of the windows. If she’d been here, she hadn’t stayed long.

I left, slowed at the entrance of her wing. She was frightened, but soon the adrenaline would leave her and exhaustion would remain. She’d need something sweet. I made for the kitchen, pulled out my knife from my pocket.

Mrs. Reid wasn’t here. I’d given her the day off. Her nephew’s graduation or something. I couldn’t quite recall. That alone disturbed me. I dragged my fingers along the counter, then reached. Soft scaled fruit. My hand curled around the size. I sliced the skin free, then into even crescents, placing them neatly on a plate.

Two pears were next.

Strawberries.

Perfect ones.

For her.

Nyssa’s scent was stronger here. Lingering at the bench. I ran my knife under the tap, dried it carefully on a towel before closing it and placing the blade back into my pocket.

My hand moved, trailing the steel sink, then the counter once more, before touching the wooden block. Large handles. Four. I stopped, pressing my finger against the smaller gap where a knife should’ve been. The blade thinner, long enough. Not a slashing weapon. No, a close-contact choice.

I moved to the cupboard.

Stood there for a second. Inhaled. Then reached. Jars and jars of preserved fruits were crammed neatly on the shelves. A space where a jar was missing. A heavy one too. I found more gone. Bottled water missing from the back row.

She hadn’t prepared an escape route.

She prepared to hold ground.

Heavy footsteps dragged my focus away. I stepped out of the pantry and closed the door as Rafe moved into the kitchen, then stopped. “Something’s going down. There’s chatter.”

“Contained?”

“I’m not sure.” He answered carefully. “One of London’s acquaintances… from the party.”

One slow nod.

I reached into my pocket and pulled my cell free.

“I’m ready when you are.” Rafe answered, took a step. Stopped. Then— “You’re getting better at what she likes.”

“Alaric.” London snarled. “Not a good time.”

“Then save us both the performance and tell me what I want to know.”

“So she told you?” He snarled. “The situation is being handled. You’ll be protected.”

Protected?

“Protected from what?”

“I thought that’s why you were calling. Because of Nyssa.”

Some dangerous part of me turned cold. “What about Nyssa?”

Silence on the other end of the call.

“Alaric…”

Then quietly.

“Her name was captured by one of our operatives. Killian’s dead. And her name surfaced the same night. He’s hunting her, Alaric and I have a feeling this one wont stop.”