The wind nearly ripped the handle from my grip, throwing freezing rain directly into my face.

Aries was already out, moving with a strange, quiet grace despite the weather.

We hurried down the slick wooden planks of the pier toward the gray boathouse.

Killian held the heavy metal door open, slipping in behind us and locking it with three distinct throws of a deadbolt.

Inside, the air smelled of salt, rusted iron, and old diesel fuel.

It was not a simple cabin; the walls were reinforced with thick steel plating, and a heavy workbench sat under a single hanging bulb.

Aries stripped off his wet overcoat, tossing it onto a metal chair.

His silk shirt was damp, clinging to the broad frame of his shoulders.

“Sienna,” he said, turning to face me. “On the table.”

I set my heavy leather bag down, my hands trembling slightly as I unbuckled the brass clasps.

“I need every name,” Aries said, his voice dropping to a low, quiet rasp that filled the concrete room. “Everyone who touched that cloth.”

“In my shop, it was only me and Leo,” I said.