Elena’s pov

She was dressed in sharp black, the kind of tailored precision that looked expensive even under fluorescent lighting. Her hair was perfect. Her makeup was flawless. At the Carter estate she had worn composure like armor. Here the armor was gone. Her eyes were bright with open, undiluted fury. She looked me up and down slowly, deliberately, the way someone examines a stain they fully intend to scrub out of existence.

“So here you are,” she said. Her voice was low and venomous, pitched just loud enough for nearby ears to catch. “Man-snatcher.”

The word landed like a physical blow. I forced myself to stay still. This was...