He mumbled something incoherently and turned onto his side, safe for now.

I walked back into the main sitting room of the suite, the quiet of the mansion pressing in on my ears.

I needed to clear my head, so I walked down the narrow corridor that connected the east wing to the central library.

The hallway was lined with old family portraits and dark mahogany paneling.

At the end of the hall was a small study that Damon rarely used, typically reserved for storing old files and inactive electronics.

I pushed the heavy door open, the hinges letting out a faint groan.

The room smelled of old paper and leather, untouched for months.

I walked over to the large desk in the corner and pulled on the brass handle of the bottom drawer.

To my surprise, the drawer was not locked.

Inside, sitting on top of a stack of old tax documents, was a small, rugged external hard drive.

Beside it lay a single sheet of heavy cream paper covered in columns of alphanumeric codes.

The handwriting at the bottom of the page was sharp, hurried, and instantly recognizable.