At three in the afternoon, while dusting the main library, Maya found a small toy beneath a velvet chair. It was a wooden rabbit, no bigger than her palm, once painted white, though much of the color had worn away over the years.

One ear was chipped, and a faded pink ribbon hung around its neck, looking terribly out of place in such an immaculate room. Maya froze as she picked it up gently, a strange ache moving through her chest.

Before she could decide what to do, a voice cut through the room like a blade. “Put it down.”

Maya turned to see Arthur in the doorway, his face changed entirely—the emptiness gone, replaced by something sharp and dangerous.

“I’m so sorry,” she said at once. “I found it under the chair. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Put it down,” he repeated.