The intimate haze shattered like glass. Julian's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. A faint ripple in the periphery of his consciousness, A Shadow he'd anchored near a collapsed ventilation duct had sensed a displacement of air, a weight where there should be none.
"We have a visitor," he said, his voice instantly cold and clear, all trace of warmth gone.
Fey let out a groan of frustration, resting her forehead against his shoulder for a second. "You have got to be kidding me. The mood in this place is officially dead."
Beatrix jolted back to reality as if doused in ice water, her glasses askew. "An assault? How many?" Her mind, ever the analyst, scrambled to re-engage.
"One," Julian replied, already disentangling himself from them with efficient movements. His senses fanned out through his shadows, painting a picture. "Single intruder. Skilled. Already deep inside our perimeter."
