The fire.
The quiet room.
Eve looked at the folder on the table. At twelve pages of forty one years.
She thought about the hearing. About standing at that table and saying I would do it again. About three to two and Cassius's voice in the still room and the feeling of Damian's hands on her shoulders after.
She'd thought that was the hard part.
She'd thought coming home was the exhale.
It was. It had been.
But the exhale was over.
"What do we do about Callum," Silas said.
He asked it quietly. Not to the room. To Damian.
Damian was looking at the table.
Eve knew that look. The one where he was three steps ahead and didn't love where the steps were going.
"We don't confront him," Damian said. "Not yet. If he's compromised and we move too fast he goes to ground and we lose the thread." A pause. "We watch. We give him nothing he can use. And we wait for him to show us where he is."
"And if he already has what he needs," Damon said.
