Chapter 6 · The Hunter From Thirty Years Back

Marcus slammed the file shut so hard the desk lamp jumped.

Evira's ears were still ringing from the look on his face when he'd shoved the photo back into the folder. That woman. Thirty years dead, maybe. Thirty years gone, definitely. And wearing Evira's jaw, her eyes, her fucking bone structure down to the slant of the brow.

"You're out," Marcus said.

Flat. No room for argument. He was already turning away, yanking open a drawer, pulling out a second folder. This one had requisition stamps all over it. Transfer papers.

"Out where?" Evira stayed in her chair. Her legs didn't want to hold her up right now anyway.

"Out of this case. Out of my training roster. I'll reassign you to perimeter sweeps in the southern quarter. You'll finish your rookie contract there. Safe. Boring. You'll hate it."

He wasn't even looking at her. Just filling in a form, his pen scratching too fast. The letters were going to be illegible.

"My brother's already in," Evira said.

The pen stopped.

"Felix is bait," she said. "Whoever took him didn't want ransom. They wanted me to come looking. You saw that file. You saw her face.