“Not like this,” I say, keeping my tone even even as anger coils tight under my ribs, “and not without consequences.”
She straightens, chin lifting defensively. “I don’t know what you think you’re implying.”
“I’m implying,” I say, taking another step closer, “that if anything happens to her, and it already has, then anyone who helped him disappear is part of that chain.”
Atticus glances at me briefly, a silent check, and I know he feels it too, the thin line between pressure and threat, but we are past gentle now.
“He stayed here,” Atticus says quietly, “and you know where he went next.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable, and I can see the fear starting to outweigh loyalty in her expression, because whatever Steven told her, whatever story he fed her, it is not str
