Wren stands there in the middle of the room with her coat still half-on, breathing just a little too fast.Not panicked.But bracing.
She looks at me like she’s waiting for a blow she’s already halfway prepared to take.
I hate that look.
“Sit,” I say gently.
She does, pulling her coat off her shoulders and setting it on the chair beside her.Finn drops to the seat next to her, knee almost touching hers.Atlas stays standing, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched in a way that says he’s barely holding himself in place.
I sit across from her and set my phone on the table.
“Wren,” I say quietly.“Before I show you anything, I want to be clear about something.”
Her fingers twist together in her lap.“Okay.”
“You’re safe in this room.”
Atlas murmurs, “Anywhere with us.”
Finn nods.“Seriously.Whatever it is, you’re not handling it by yourself.”
She swallows, throat working.
I unlock my phone.The screen brightens the table.Wren flinches slightly at the shift of light, like her body already knows what it’s going to see.
I don’t turn it toward her yet.
I watch her eyes.
“What I’m about to show you isn’t meant to scare you,” I say.“It’s meant to inform you.To give you the truth, not shadows.”
Wren’s breath trembles.Not enough to be visible.Enough that all three of us hear it.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I rotate the screen.
The still image fills the room.
A man in a dark coat.
Standing in Section 118.
Facing the bench.
Still as carved stone.
Wren’s hand flies to her mouth.
She stares.Doesn’t blink.Doesn’t breathe.
I can’t tell if she’s remembering something or recognizing it.But the color drains from her face in a way that makes every instinct in me surge forward.
Finn reaches for her hand instantly.
Atlas steps forward like he’s about to tear the table in half.
I move the phone back slightly—not hiding it, but giving her a breath of space.
