"We found one," he said, his voice flat, low, and lethal. His eyes didn't move from Alexander's. "He didn't get far."
Alexander straightened from his desk, the red folder closing beneath his hand like a seal placed on a sentence. Irina, who'd just seconds before been mid-eye roll, went still, her breath catching the way it did when the tone in the room changed.
"Inside the palace?" Alexander asked.
Leslie nodded once. "Gregoris cracked one of the kitchen runners. The second was a decoy; this one stayed behind. He knew the layout. The guards. The shift overlaps." His fists clenched, leather gloves creaking. "He was waiting for a second attempt. He would've tried again tonight."
Edward appeared behind him then, not drenched, not winded, not anything but pristine, as if the storm outside had parted just for him. His coat was immaculate, not a hair out of place, but his eyes were cold. That rare, dangerous kind of cold that only surfaced when he was truly displeased.
