Chapter 35 · Anniversary

"Play it," Vega says, and the recording I filed under case number 0417 fills the wall behind the string quartet.

I know that number. I logged it myself three years back, hands shaking so bad the label came out crooked. I never thought anyone would find that drive again. I made sure of it.

Then Callum's voice comes out of the speakers, twelve feet tall, wired through the whole ballroom.

"This mate bond was a mistake. I'm not doing this to him."

Ninety-some guests go dead quiet. Forks stop halfway to mouths. And the mark under my collar goes molten, like it's the first cut all over again, like no time passed at all.

Vega turns from the screen like she's just showing off a party trick. Rose gold dress, champagne in one hand, a leather folder tucked under her arm like a weapon she's saving for later.

"One year today," she says. "Happy anniversary, archivist."

"Turn it off." My voice doesn't sound like mine.

"Why? Everyone already knows. I'm just giving them the audio to go with the gossip." She pats the folder. "There's more where that came from. Full transcript.