Gideon’s head snapped toward the bookcase. "Sera?"

Before he could cross the room, I stepped out from the deep shadow of the gallery panel, pulling the hidden door shut behind me. I stood in the corridor light, my dark coat buttoned to my throat, my hands resting calm

Gideon stood paralyzed in the center of the kitchen, his breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. The grey ceramic coffee mug felt like a block of lead in his hand.

He stared down at the underside of the base, his thumb tracing the tiny, elegant grooves etched into th

Gideon stared at the notebook.

It was a simple, dark brown journal with tarnished brass corners. He recognized it instantly—it was the book Sera had carried with her everywhere during her teens, the one she used to write down pack supply audits and training schedules.

H