Damian stares at the photo of the note as if it contains a personal challenge carved into wood. His eyes trace the words again and again. You were looking in the wrong place. The smear of red beneath it glows faintly on the screen, a fresh reminder that Adrian never leaves anything to interpretation.
Damian’s jaw tightens. “This is an invitation.”
The certainty in his voice chills me more than the message itself. I step closer, studying the sharpness in his expression, the way tension pulls at the muscles in his neck.
“It is not an invitation,” I say softly. “It is bait.”
He glances at me. There is a flicker of defiance in his eyes, the instinct to react, to strike back, to meet threat with threat. Adrian’s note has hooked something in him. Pride. Anger. Family guilt. All of it.
“He w
