Marlowe
I found Reid in the mess hall an hour later, unable to sit with the fear he'd planted any longer without at least trying to gauge exactly how much ground I'd actually lost.
"Say what you actually mean," I told him, dropping into the seat across from him without invitation. "Stop circling. If you know something, say it plainly."
"Direct. I like that." He leaned back, entirely too pleased with the shift in dynamic. "Fine. Plainly, then — I know you're not who you say you are. I know the photograph I found matches a face I've been staring at for weeks. I know Silas Calloway didn't have a son."
The words landed like physical blows, each one confirming exactly what I'd feared since the moment he first mentioned the photo.
"What do you want," I said, voice low, controlled despite th
