Julian.
Every time I saw him, my mind defaulted to an old pawn shop filled with the smell of dust and old metal. I couldn't shake the image of the woman from the pawn shop—the one who had looked at me with eyes that saw right through the Spanish Mate facade and into the grime of my real life.
There was a tether between them… a nagging feeling in me that I couldn't quite prove but felt in the marrow of my bones.
Pia was restless, her claws unsheathing in my mind. "She's connected, Waverly. That woman in the pawn shop didn't just guess your name. And Julian? He's been breadcrumbing us since the moment we arrived. Giving subtle hints… he knows. He's just waiting for the right moment to pull the rug out."
