The ride back to the manor passed in a blur of winter light and muted city noise. Lucas sat with the binder balanced on his knees, thumb running along the edge of the photocopied pages. He didn't open it; he just felt its weight, heavier than it should be, like a stone he'd chosen to pick up. Windstone sat beside him, silent and watchful, his pale-green eyes flicking to the street only when necessary.
By the time the sedan rolled through the gates and up the long drive, dusk was already pressing at the windows. Warm light spilled from the manor's tall windows, a soft gold against the early evening sky. Lucas drew a slow breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped out when the driver opened the door.
Windstone peeled away toward the security office without being asked, giving Lucas a small nod as he went. Lucas crossed the entrance hall alone, the binder still under his arm. The scent of Trevor hit him first, dark and familiar, before he even saw him.
