Clara stood in Dr. Patel's office with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, the note still folded in her fist like a small, jagged piece of ice. The room felt too warm, too small, too full of eyes.
Nathaniel arrived seconds after Dr. Patel called him—bursting in with a force that made the door slam against the wall. His gaze swept the room, sharp and searching, until it landed on her, and everything in his expression changed.
"Clara." His voice was low, almost rough, like he'd run here. "Are you alright?" She wasn't.
Not even close. But she nodded anyway, blinking hard. Behind his controlled demeanor, Nathaniel looked like he wanted to tear the building apart brick by brick until he found whoever had touched her work. Dr. Patel cleared his throat. "We found Clara in the destroyed lab. All her research has been wiped or torn apart. The notebook is missing."
Nathaniel's jaw tightened, the muscle near his ear jumping. "Who else was in the lab?"
