I stood in the shadows of the hallway leading to my apartment, listening intently as William Vance spoke in hushed tones with his subordinate. After yesterday's confrontation and the suspicious accusation that I'd somehow caused his illness, I'd been on high alert, constantly monitoring my surroundings.
"Pull back all surveillance on Knight," Vance ordered, his voice low but clear to my enhanced senses. "We're no longer interfering in his conflict with Julian Hawthorne."
His subordinate hesitated. "Sir, are you certain? Hawthorne is—"
"I said pull back," Vance snapped. "Knight isn't what I thought he was. Let's see how he handles himself against Hawthorne without our... interference."
I waited until they left before continuing to my apartment, their conversation turning over in my mind. So Vance had been watching me all along. And now he was stepping back to see how I'd fare against this Julian Hawthorne person—whoever that was.
