Dorian's POV
I dragged my palm across my face, wearing a path in the lieutenant's office floor. My phone screen lit up again—Theo Brooks's message staring back at me. Meeting him should've felt like progress, so why did my gut twist with dread?
The door swung open. Quentin stepped in. "Sorry for the delay—business call from my L.A. partner. He told me—" His words died when he caught sight of my expression. "What's wrong?"
"Theo Brooks wants to meet," I said, barely above a whisper.
Quentin's eyes went wide. "That's fantastic! When do we leave?"
I gave a halfhearted shrug. "I suppose."
"Unless... you'd rather not?" His eyebrows shot up.
"Hell, I don't know." Another shrug escaped me. "Something feels off about this. Why reach out now? After that whole mess."
"Only one way to find out," Quentin said matter-of-factly.
I exhaled slowly, then gave him a nod. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
