Chapter 54

• Damon
• I stepped out of my black Jaguar, the engine purring into silence as I pulled the key fob from the ignition. The crisp air hit my face, sharp and biting, carrying the faint scent of croissant from the vendor down the street. Eloise’s atelier sat nestled between a pottery studio and a minimalist flower shop, its matte milk facade different against the row of sandstone townhouses.
• I adjusted the cuffs of my burgundy coat, brushing a stray lint off my lapel, and headed towards her door. Through the glass panel, I caught a glimpse of her silhouette, hunched over her drafting table, pencil moving in quick, desperate strokes. Even from here, she looked frayed around the edges—like threads pulled tight.