Lucas froze mid-signature, the stylus hovering just above the screen. He didn't look up immediately, his focus narrowing on the faint blinking cursor beside Trevor's name.
"I figured you had," he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. "You and Trevor share more information than the national database."
Alistair didn't deny it. He moved away from the desk, pacing a slow line toward the window. "He called me before leaving for the Duchess's compound. Told me not to worry, which, coming from him, means I should worry twice as much."
Lucas set the stylus down and leaned back in his chair, studying him. "You two have the same tone when you try to downplay things. Flat, too calm, like the world's not about to implode."
"That's a family survival mechanism," Alistair replied. "We learned that from the old generation. Look stoic, then panic in private."
Lucas gave a small laugh that faded too quickly. "I'm sure of that."
