For a heartbeat, the room is silent. Evan doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. His eyes stay locked on the hair tie like it’s something alive and poisonous.

Then he moves. Not fast. Not loud. Just… decisive. He wraps the hair tie and the note back in the cloth with a precision that feels more dangerous than shouting. When he straightens, his chair scrapes back across the floor the sound sharp enough to make several warriors flinch.

“Jadon,” he says quietly, but there’s no softness in ...