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“I kept wondering whether Connor chose to leave,” I confess. “Even after I knew the bag in his car was wrong, a part of me kept asking whether he was somewhere safe and simply didn’t want me to find him.”

“Rick wanted you to ask that.”

“He succeeded.” I lean back enough to see Andrei’s face. “Connor called me that night. If I’d answered, he might have told me he was meeting Rick and where they were going.”

“You called him back.” Andrei cradles the back of my neck. “The blame belongs to the person who lied about being with him.”

I want to keep arguing with the past because it offers more choices than the present. Andrei has no answer that can change Tuesday night, but he stays with me while I breathe through it.

His phone rings and Drew’s name appears. Andrei answers without letting go of my hand. He listens, then asks, “Which entry?”

His expression changes. I wait while Drew explains.

“I’ll be there,” Andrei tells him. “Have the staff schedule ready.”

When he ends the call, he turns the screen toward me as if to show he has no reason to hide it. “Drew found a gate entry that doesn’t match the schedule he has. It may be an ordinary change of shift, but he wants me there while they compare the records and question the worker.”

“Where?”

“The security office beside the administration building.” He touches my hand. “I’ll tell you what we find.”

I nod. Last night I might have followed him to make certain he kept that promise. This morning I trust that he means it. I watch him take his jacket and leave the room.

Birdie calls as Andrei’s footsteps fade down the stairs. She and Sofia are in the kitchen, where Sofia has promised to teach her a bread recipe she has apparently been guarding for years. Murphy is supervising from a chair.

“I’m coming,” I tell her.

“Take your time,” Birdie replies. “Sofia says the dough has to rest, and Murphy has already eaten enough to require a nap.”

I stay by the office window for another minute, watching Andrei cross the path toward the administration building. Drew meets him at the entrance. They disappear inside together, and I reach for my phone to text Birdie back about lunch.

A notification pops up on my phone. The number is unfamiliar, and there’s no text above the video thumbnail, only an image too small to see. I tap it, expecting another photograph from Drew’s investigation.

Connor’s face fills the screen.

He sits in a chair beneath a bare ceiling light. Bruises darken one cheek and the skin near his temple. His wrists are fastened behind him, pulling his shoulders back. A pale wall rises behind him, interrupted by a narrow window near the ceiling.

I grip the desk until the video begins moving.

“Cassie.” His voice is hoarse, but it’s his. “Cass, I’m alive.”

I’ve imagined hearing those words every day since he disappeared. I thought I would cry or call his name. Instead, I press my hand against my mouth and watch him breathe.

He looks at someone beyond the camera. “She needs to know about the fire,” he protests.

A voice tells him to face forward. Connor’s jaw tightens before he obeys.

“I heard what happened at the stable yesterday,” he continues, each word careful. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”

The video is recent. He knows about Walter’s stable and my injury. Someone has been telling him what happens here, or showing him. I look at the wall behind his chair, the window, the patch of shadow near the floor. Nothing tells me where he is.

The camera moves closer. Connor follows it with his eyes, then looks into the lens again.

“Don’t blame yourself for Tuesday,” he tells me.

My breath catches. Of all the things he could have said, he gives me that.

The distorted voice comes from behind the camera. “Your brother stays alive if you follow instructions. You have forty-eight hours to bring Andrei Dragorin to us. We’ll send the place and time when we’re ready.”