The warehouse was silent now, but the quiet was not peace. It pressed against their lungs, heavy with expectation, every shadow a potential threat. The rain had slowed outside, but the occasional clap of thunder still rattled the roof like an unseen percussion. Justina’s fingers traced the edge of the cabinet she had been examining, brushing over folders and devices that smelled faintly of old smoke and polished metal. Every piece of her mother’s work whispered secrets she was not sure she ...