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No hesitation. No correction.

“Already did.”

“Again.”

Footsteps approached. Ghost appeared around the corner, weapon held low against his thigh. He gave me one quick glance before moving past.

I stared after him. Then toward the voices ahead.

Revenant.

The word settled strangely inside me.

I’d seen glimpses of this Alaric before. The coldness. The command. The way dangerous men moved when he spoke. Maybe the name didn’t reveal something new. Maybe it simply gave a name to something I’d already seen.

The security room was no bigger than a broom closet at the far end of the west wing. I approached cautiously. My gaze moving to the row of displays on the walls and the three men staring at them. The glow of monitors painted pale light across their faces. None of them noticed me at first. I watched Alaric. Shoulders tight. Jaw clenched.

A photograph lay beside the keyboard. A woman. A child. I couldn’t quite make out the details. But next to it lay Lily’s ribbon. Half of it at least. The other half was in my hand. My gaze moved to the knife Alaric had given me. Like everything that’s mattered to him had been reduced to evidence.

“Alaric.”

His head turned immediately. The room seemed to fall away. He looked at me. Really looked at me. The same way he always did. Like nothing else existed.

“I need to show you something.”

He didn’t ask what.

He didn’t tell me to wait.

He just crossed the room. Rafe stepped back instinctively giving us space. I unlocked my phone. My fingers trembled. It wasn’t from fear. No. It was shame.

“I should’ve shown you before.”

His eyes lifted to mine.

“They started the day Mrs. Reid found the water damage.” I swallowed. “I thought…” The words caught in my throat. “I thought I could figure it out myself.”

He never interrupted.

Not once.

I opened the thread.

The first message.

Then the next.

Then the video.

I pressed play and silence filled the room. Only rain. Only Saint-Clair’s screams. The match. The fire. I turned away. I couldn’t watch it again. I watched Alaric instead. His face never changed. Not when he heard himself speak. Not when the flames rose. Not when the screen went black.

Only then did he reach for the phone.

His thumb moved slowly through every message. One by one. He didn’t skim them. He read every word. Twice. His jaw tightened. Then… something inside him shifted. Some kind of understanding.

“He isn’t hunting me.”

The words were so quiet I almost missed them.