She could have sworn the warmth from his hands still lingered on her own.

Whatever conversation they’d been having with Isaiah over, Flynn and Declan strode for the magi-screen. Ruhn stood ten feet beyond them, talking to a beautiful, dark-haired medwitch. No doubt asking about what she’d assessed.

Peering around the glowing blue edge to the body hidden beyond, Flynn and Declan swore.

Her stomach bottomed out. Maybe coming here had been a bad idea. She leaned slightly into Hunt’s touch.

His fingers dug into her back in silent reassurance before he murmured, “I can look for us.”

Us, like they were a unit against this fucking mess of a world.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice mercifully calm. But she didn’t move toward the screen.

Flynn pulled away from the blocked-off body and asked Isaiah, “How fresh is this kill?”

“We’re putting the TOD at thirty minutes ago,” Isaiah answered gravely. “From the remains of the clothes, it looks like it was one of the guards at Luna’s Temple. He was on his way home.”

Silence rippled around them. Bryce’s stomach dropped.

Hunt swore. “I’m gonna take a guess and say he was on duty the night the Horn was stolen?”

Isaiah nodded. “It was the first thing I checked.”

Bryce swallowed and said, “We have to be getting close to something, then. Or the murderer is already one step ahead of us, interrogating and then killing anyone who might have known where the Horn disappeared to.”

“None of the cameras caught anything?” Flynn asked, his handsome face unusually serious.

“Nothing,” Isaiah said. “It’s like it knew where they were. Or whoever summoned it did. It stayed out of sight.”

Hunt ran his hand up the length of her spine, a solid, calming sweep, and then stepped toward the Commander of the 33rd, his voice low as he said, “To know every camera in this city, especially the hidden ones, would require some clearance.” His words hung there, none of them daring to say more, not in public. Hunt asked, “Did anyone report a sighting of a demon?”

A DNA technician emerged from the screen, blood staining the knees of her white jumpsuit. Like she’d knelt in it while she gathered the sample kit dangling from her gloved fingers.

Bryce glanced away again, back toward Main Street.

Isaiah shook his head. “No reports from civilians or patrols yet.”

Bryce barely heard him as the facts poured into her mind. Main Street.

She pulled out her phone, drawing up the map of the city. Her location pinged, a red dot on the network of streets.

The males were still talking about the scant evidence when she placed a few pins in the map, then squinted at the ground beneath them. Ruhn had drifted over, falling into conversation with his friends as she tuned them out.

But Hunt noted her focus and turned toward her, his dark brows high. “What?”