“This was in Eloin’s hair,” she said. Her voice shook, but she didn’t look away.
Ariston frowned, irritation flaring.
“What is this?” he asked.
He glanced down—then his expression changed. His face drained of color. He picked up the strand with shaking fingers.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
“Miss Calva used a tool,” Sky said. “She pulled it out. It hurt Eloin. Bad.”
Ariston stared at the etched words.
VLab Prototype 3.
His jaw clenched.
He turned to his assistant without taking his eyes off the wire.
“Clear my schedule,” he said.
“Sir, you have—”
“Now.”
Everyone scattered.
Ariston knelt so he was eye level with Sky.
“Take me to her,” he said.
They ran through the mansion together—upstairs, down hallways Eloin had walked a thousand times alone. Sky led him straight to the room where she’d found the crying girl.
The door was closed.
Ariston pushed it open.
For a moment, he stopped breathing.
Eloin sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, face buried, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Miss Calva stood over her, the silver tool still in her hand.
“What is that?” Ariston’s voice cracked like thunder.
Miss Calva turned, surprised but not frightened.
“Sir,” she began. “I was just—”