Chapter 88

• Harper's POV
• Theo doesn’t speak. He only moves, silent and steady like a man performing a ritual he’s memorized down to the breath. He crosses the room and opens a drawer in the lacquered cabinet. I hear the metallic shift of something delicate being lifted, then the soft clink of glass. When he turns, I see the long black taper in his hand and a lighter curled between his fingers. A candle. Plain and smooth, made of real wax, not some novelty store knock-off. This isn’t for decoration.
• This is for me.