Page 175 of She Walks with Broken Things

Saint-Clair hadn’t found a monster.

He’d built one.

My gaze went back to the report. To the single line in bold at the end:

Preferred scent during exposure therapy: Clove oil.

I stopped breathing.

Here he was.

The monster from her dreams.

Just a boy.

My damn hand shook when I turned the page. There was a photograph. Tiny. Black and white. I picked up and pulled it closer. A boy standing barefoot. Clothes too big. Eyes…

Empty.

Not evil.

Just empty.

The last page wasn’t a report. It was an intake form.

Transfer Approved.

That was it.

Just like that.

I flipped open the folder, searched but there was nothing else. Just this. I scanned the report once more, avoiding the photo. Then… I closed the folder and turned away.

I carried it with me as I made my way back up to the study. Slap. The file hit the desk before I hit the button for the coffee machine.

Beep.

My cell vibrated.

I grabbed a cup.

My cell.

My fingers moved on reflex, hitting the button and let the message play out loud.

“Cassian is gone, Alaric. Just a few of the Sons left behind. Word is he left the city a while ago. I guess no one noticed.”

“Who’s Cassian?”

My hand stilled. The coffee stopped pouring. I just stood there for a second. Then I breathed.

“Didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s unusual.”

Unusual.

Yes.