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Wood splinters.

The tiny brass cylinder tears free and rolls beneath Hazel’s bed.

A sharp crack fills the conference room through the security feed, followed by the thin, broken notes of Grandpa’s favorite song.

Hazel makes a sound beside me.

Not a scream.

Something quieter.

More painful.

Simon Vail looks directly into the camera.

He lifts one boot and brings it down on the shattered music box.

“No!” Hazel lunges toward the monitor as though she can reach through it and stop him.

I catch her around the waist.

Ben moves with me, bracing both of us before we fall into the table.

“Police are outside,” I tell her. “They’ll get him.”

“He destroyed it.”

“I know.”

“Grandpa gave me that.”

Agent Marquez raises her radio.

“Suspect identified as Simon Vail. He is inside the rear bedroom and may be armed. Do not approach the apartment alone.”

The officer on the other end answers immediately.

“We have teams covering the front entrance and rear courtyard. Building manager is bringing the master key.”

On the monitor, Simon crouches beside the broken music box.

He doesn’t search through the pieces.

He doesn’t touch the blue glass.

He simply stares into the camera.

“Why isn’t he looking for the prism?” I ask.

Thomas moves closer to the screen.

“Because that isn’t what he came for.”

Simon reaches toward us.

His gloved hand covers the lens.

The feed goes black.