The next morning arrived with the kind of crisp clarity that followed a storm. I stood in the Reed family kitchen, watching Evelyn prepare coffee with practiced efficiency. Her movements were precise, controlled, but I caught the slight tremor in her hands when she thought I wasn't looking.
"You didn't sleep well," I observed.
"Neither did you," she replied without turning around. "I heard you moving around at three in the morning."
I couldn't deny it. Even with the Morgan sisters locked away, my instincts kept me alert. Years of mountain training had taught me that victory often preceded the most dangerous attacks.
My phone rang. Damien Pierce's name appeared on the screen.
"Hayes," I answered.
"I wanted you to know," Damien's voice was businesslike. "I spoke with Felix Morgan last night. I made it clear that the Pierce family has no intention of helping his daughters."
"I appreciate the information."
