DYERBodie does not knock.

He never does when news matters.

The door opens with a controlled urgency that pulls me from half-thought, half-stillness. I am already awake, already listening, already aware of the way the den’s air tightens before a shift reaches language. Bodie steps inside and closes the door behind him with care, as if the stone itself might overhear.

His expression is not hopeful.

It is… precise.

That alone makes my spine straighten.

“You found him,” I say quietly.

Bodie ...