The car feels like a pressure cooker. The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating, as Eliot navigates the unfamiliar London streets. I stare out the window, but I don't see the row houses passing by - all I can see is the flicker of Eliot's reflection in the glass, his jaw tight, hands gripping the wheel like it might fly apart at any second. That warehouse. Those men. The way Clarence had said it so casually, like he was discussing the weather. "The security cameras were backed up offsite. I've seen the footage."

I feel Alec shift beside me, his knee bumping mine. His tablet buzzes with the information we risked everything to get, but suddenly it feels meaningless. How long has he been carrying this secret? How many more does he have? The question burns on my tongue, demanding to be spoken, but the car feels too small, the air too thin for the truth. When Eliot finally pulls into the safe house garage, the click of the locks sounds like a verdict.