The study was silent, holding the heavy calm that settled into the walls and refused to leave. Outside, the night remained unmoving. Inside, the cool draft from the window stirred the heavy curtains, carrying the scent of damp earth and rain from the gardens.
Raven stood by the window, bare feet on the cold marble, the report in her hand warm from the printer. It was three pages of single-spaced text, containing every word the mercenary commander had spilled under the too-bright light and the unbalanced chair.
Vincent sat behind the desk. He hadn't looked up yet.
Somewhere in the mansion, Gabriel remained unconscious. The east supply depot was gone. And she stood in this room, choosing to stay.
The cage had never had locks. She just hadn't noticed until now.
She crossed the room and set the report on the desk, the paper making a soft sound against the wood.
Vincent picked it up, reading through page after page without a word.
