My eyes scanned the first document, a digital copy of a medical report.

My mother’s signature was at the bottom.

Directly above it was a list of dates and chemical compounds.

“What is this?” Lucian asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s a poison log,” I said, my heart pounding against my ribs. “My mother was tracking what they were giving Elena.”

“They?” Lucian asked.

“Look at the initials on the authorization line,” I said, pointing to the bottom right corner of the page.

Lucian stared at the screen, his face turning incredibly pale.

The initials were *V.S.*

Before Lucian could speak, the heavy mahogany door behind us creaked open.

A shadow stretched across the green light of the desk.

“Who is there?” Lucian’s voice was a low, dangerous growl.

His hand was already moving toward the inside of his jacket, his fingers wrapping around the grip of his firearm.

The shadow shifted, and a tall, familiar figure stepped into the dim light of the desk lamp.

It was Victor Sinclair.

His silver hair was combed back perfectly, reflecting the pale green glow of the monitor.