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Daniel came back. “The back lock isn’t broken,” he said. “No visible damage. Whoever came in knows what they’re doing. That’s not a stick-a-bobby-pin-in-it move. That’s professional.”

My skin crawled.

“Oh, and,” he added, gesturing at the doorframe, “your ward has a bite radius to it. I brushed it by accident. It snapped at me.”

“You touched my murder ward,” I said.

“I touched your murder ward,” he confirmed. “It didn’t like me. That’s good.”

“Define good,” I said.

“It means it’s keyed to you like Mandi said,” Sam chimed in. “It recognizes you as safe and everyone else as chew toys. Whoever put it here was actively trying to keep assholes out.”

“Except this one,” I said.

“Except this one,” Daniel agreed. “Wards obey their maker. If he wrote it, it won’t burn him. That’s the loophole.”

“So my own house security is on his side,” I said. “Perfect. Love that for me.”

Sam guided me to the couch and pushed me down gently. I sat, knee bouncing, shards of ceramic on the floor glinting up at me.

“You didn’t see his face at all?” she asked. “Nothing? No mark? No . . . vibe?”

“He was a vibe,” I said. “The vibe was murder. That’s all I got.”

Daniel’s brows pulled together. “Murder how?”

I rubbed my palms over my thighs. “Like the guy at Lux Tower.”

The room went still.

Sam blinked. “The guy at Lux Tower?”

My stomach sank before I even finished putting the thought together.

The masked man in the hall. All black. Too broad. Too still. Standing near Vale like a weapon someone had leaned against the wall. I had been too busy pretending I belonged in a building where the floors probably cost more than my rent to stare at him for long, but I remembered the feeling.

The way every instinct in my body had whispered, Don’t move too fast.

“I saw someone when I delivered the flowers,” I said slowly. “At Lux Tower. Masked. Black clothes. Huge. He didn’t say anything. Vale acted like he was normal furniture, which, by the way, he was not. He was murder furniture.”

Sam’s eyes darted to Daniel.

I pointed at both of them. “No. Do not do that.”

“Do what?” Sam asked.

“That little silent relationship telepathy thing where you both know something terrible and won’t tell me.”

Sam sat beside me. “Okay. Start from the beginning. What were you doing before you fell asleep?”

“I was reading.”

Sam lifted a brow. “The general book again?”

“Kinda,” I said. “I finished that in the bath. After that I . . .” My gaze slid to my laptop, still glowing on the table.

Sam followed my gaze. “Oh my gods, were you watching porn?”