Ewing’s gaze lingered on Avery for a heartbeat too long before he turned to catch the rising lift. However, just as the silver doors were about to slide shut, he threw one last look over his shoulder.

In that hollow second, Avery’s eyes met his.

Her gaze wasn't the wide-eyed terror of a pup; it was a deep, serene well of indifference, the kind earned only by those whose souls have been ground between the gears of the Silver Ridge hierarchy. This look struck a primal chord in Ewing. Once that spark of familiarity was lit, it burned through his skepticism. He couldn't place the scent or the name, but...