I froze, my hand hovering over the mouse.

The brass doorknob turned fully, and the door swung open.

I did not close the window on the computer screen.

I stood my ground, my fingers still resting on the cold metal of the external hard drive.

Damon stood in the doorway.

His dark wool coat was speckled with melting sleet from the Chicago night.

His grey eyes immediately locked onto the glowing monitor, then shifted to my face.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

The wind rattled the glass panes of the tall window behind us.

“You shouldn’t be in here, Nora,” he said.

His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made the room feel smaller.

“Why?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “Because of what you hid in these files?”

He stepped into the room and closed the heavy door.

The latch clicked shut with a sound like a pistol cocking.

He walked to the desk, his boots silent on the thick Persian rug.

“Some secrets were meant to stay buried,” he said.