Windsor's POV
"Windsor," Gideon's voice broke through the haze clouding my thoughts, "you look pale."
I hadn't realized my knuckles had turned white from clutching the diary pages until his warm fingers carefully loosened my grip.
"I'm..." The words caught in my throat. "I just need a moment."
His dark eyes searched my face with genuine worry. "We can stop here if this is too much. You've been pushing yourself hard lately."
"No," I said, perhaps too sharply. "I'm fine."
But that was a lie.
What I held in my hands wasn't just evidence. It was a window into a nightmare that had been unfolding for far too long. These girls, these forgotten victims, had vanished without a trace. Their names erased from memory as if they never existed at all.
I studied Gideon from the corner of my eye.
He understood this place better than anyone I knew. The question burning inside me demanded an answer, even though I dreaded what he might say.
I turned toward him.
