The door to Trent’s office closed, and I cursed my hesitation. I edged to the back panel of the desk. Jenks and I exchanged glances. I gave him the sign to go home, and he nodded emphatically. We scrunched down as Trent came around and stood before his fish tank.

“Hello, Sophocles,” Trent breathed. “Who was it? If you could only tell me.”

He had lost his business jacket, making him look vastly more informal. I wasn’t surprised at the firm definition in his shoulders as they bunched under his lightweight shirt at his slightest movement. Sighing, he sat in his chair. His hand went to the drawer with the discs, and I felt myself go weak. I swallowed hard as I realized he was humming the first track to Takata’s Sea. Double damn. I had given myself away.

“‘Is it no wonder the newborn cry?’” Trent said, whispering the lyrics. “‘The choice was real. The chance is a lie.’”

He went still, his fingers on the discs. Slowly he pushed the drawer shut with a foot. Its small click made me jump. He tucked closer under the desk, and I heard the sound of the datebook scraping across the desktop. He was so close, I could smell the outside on him. “Oh,” he said with a soft surprise. “Imagine that.

“Quen!” he said loudly.

I stared at Jenks in confusion until a masculine voice came echoing into the room from a hidden speaker. “Sa’han?”

“Loose the hounds,” Trent said. His voice reverberated with power, and I shivered.

“But it isn’t the full of the—”

“Loose the hounds, Quen,” Trent repeated, his voice no louder but carrying a deep anger. Under the desk, his foot began to shift rhythmically.

“Yes, Sa’han.”

Trent’s foot stilled. “Wait.” I heard him take a deep breath, as if tasting the air.

“Sir?” came the hidden voice.

Trent sniffed again. He slowly rolled his chair away from the desk. My heart pounded, and I held my breath. Jenks flitted up to hide behind the back of a drawer. I froze as Trent stood, backed from his desk, and crouched down. I had nowhere to go. Trent’s eyes met mine, and he smiled. Fear paralyzed me. “Belay that,” he said softly.

“Yes, Sa’han.” The speaker went dead with a soft pop.

I stared at Trent, feeling as if I was going to burst.

“Ms. Morgan?” Trent said, inclining his head cordially, and I shivered. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure.” Still he smiled, inching forward. I bared my teeth and chittered. His hand drew back and he frowned. “Come out of there. You have something that belongs to me.”

I felt the presence of the disc beside me. Being caught, I went from successful thief to village idiot in a heartbeat. How could I have thought I could get away with it? Ivy was right.

“Come along, Ms. Morgan,” he said, reaching under the desk.

I sprang into the empty spaces behind the drawers, trying to escape. Trent reached up after me. I squeaked as a tight grip fastened on my tail. My nails grated as he pulled. Terrified, I twisted, sinking my teeth into the fatty part of his hand.