Marcus was working on the bracelet's lock mechanism with tools from his pack, trying to jury-rig the biometric scanner, when Emily noticed something that stopped her cold.
The panic room they were sealed in wasn't just a containment cell. It was a trophy room.
Along one wall, behind reinforced glass, were displays of various items—photographs, documents, personal effects. Each one labeled with a name and a date. Each one representing someone The Vanguard had destroyed or controlled.
"These are her victories," Isabelle whispered, horror in her voice. "Every person she's broken. Every life she's ruined. She keeps trophies."
Emily moved closer to the displays, studying them with growing understanding. These weren't random artifacts. They were leverage—physical evidence of crimes, secrets, sins that Eleanor held over people's heads.
And there, in the center of the wall, in a display case more ornate than all the others, was a leather-bound journal.
