Malcolm tensed. He glanced back at the door, frowning. “I saw the footsteps leading here and back,” he said. “Did someone come by?”

“Yeah, the guy from yesterday. The dark-haired one. He…” I blinked. I wanted to tell Malcolm how creepy he’d been, the way he’d more or less come onto me, but something stopped me. “He asked how we were doing and asked if we could spare any supplies. That’s all.”

He frowned, taking a step forward as he looked me in the eye. “What happened?” he asked.

I wanted to tell him everything. How it had felt like I’d been trapped under some sort of spell, how strangely at ease Tyr had made me feel despite my better judgment, the cryptic remarks he was saying that made no sense. Malcolm would probably know more about this odd situation than I would. He could make sense of it all.

But all I could say was, “Nothing. Honest.” And it even sounded sincere. I was a terrible liar, but you wouldn’t have known that from the casual tone I took.

But Malcolm frowned as if something still didn’t sit right with him about it. “Did he give a name this time?” he asked.

I didn’t think I would be able to answer, but whatever Tyr had done to me apparently didn’t stretch that far. “Ty,” I said.

He grunted.

“He mentioned the name Varin, too,” I added.

Malcolm froze, eyes flashing with alarm.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Except I could tell I wasn’t the only one lying.

Malcolm gave me a shrewd look, then placed his hands on my arms and crouched so our eyes were level with one another. He was close enough that I could see each individual stubble of his beard. His scent of leather and citrus enveloped me, washing away some, but not all, of that rich caramel.

“Freya,” he said, “this is very, very important. Did you invite him inside?”

I shook my head. It was true. Tyr had just stepped in on his own.

Malcolm relaxed, letting out a deep breath. “Good,” he said. “That’s good.”

Chapter 7 - Malcolm

Varin.

The name was a blast from the past. An old, faded memory. It sent a jolt of panic through my body.

But it was impossible. The Varin I knew was dead. Had been for decades. I’d seen to it myself. He was dead, and there was no way he was coming back.

Still, the name made my insides squirm. Of all the names to come floating back to the surface. It wasn’t an uncommon name, per se, but…

I glanced over at Freya. She seemed normal. Quiet, but that was par for the course with her. And if she hadn’t let him inside, then there was nothing to worry about.

Except that didn’t sit right with me. Something was off.

I stood.

“Where are you going?” Freya asked.

“Just need to make a quick call,” I said, walking up to my room. I waited until the door was closed to pull out my phone.

“Boss?” Mark’s voice sounded on the other end of the line.

“I’m not your boss anymore,” I reminded him. “Where’s Jameson?”

“You’ll always be my boss deep down,” Mark said, undeterred. “You know that. Anyway, he’s in a meeting. He told me to keep an eye on his phone in case anything came up.”