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I turned to the bed. Dropped the gun and picked up the files. They felt the same. Then I turned…

I walked to the desk, then dropped them. Flipping over the cover one at a time.

He didn’t move. Those empty eyes fixed on mine. Before they slowly looked down.

HOUSE OF ASH.

FOUNDLING INTAKE RECORD.

Nyssa’s testimony.

“I want him.”

He never looked up.

Then…

“No.”

“No?”

Then he lifted his gaze. “You want the wrong man.”

I shook my head.

He picked up the foundling file. The page bowed in his hand. “Who do you think made him?”

I swallowed. “Saint-Clair.”

“No.” He held my stare. “Saint-Clair found him.”

The words landed…

Then shattered.

Like they didn’t exist at all.

“Someone else built him.”

The page fluttered. Dropping to my desk once more.

“Tell me who.”

He stepped toward the open window. Turned. Then stopped. “Earn it.”

He was going to leave without giving me something.

I couldn’t let that happen.

My hand clenched into a fist.

“You’re asking how to kill him. You should be asking why he wants her.”

I froze.

My pulse stammered.

He took another step. Stopped again. “She isn’t random.” Looked back. “She was always going to reach him.”