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Sterling watched me for a moment longer, then grunted, clearly not believing me but letting it go. “Fine, huh? Good. Because we need you at a hundred percent for this.”

Sean shifted beside me, a subtle movement that spoke volumes. He didn't believe me either.

Sterling finally met my gaze directly. “I found someone who might know more about the seals. Goes by Hawk. Used to be a Hallow, but he's been off the grid for years.”

“What makes you think he'll talk now?” I asked.

Sterling's mouth pressed into a thin line. “Because he reached out to me. Said he has information about the seals. Information you need to hear.”

“Me specifically?” My suspicion deepened.

Sterling nodded once, decisive. “You specifically. And believe me, for Hawk to willingly contact anyone, especially about this? It's serious.”

Sean raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. “And now he suddenly wants to talk?” His distrust was evident in every line of his body. Sean had never had patience for cryptic messengers or mysterious informants. “What's his angle?”

Sterling sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Everyone's got an angle, Cullen. Question is whether his helps us or not.”

“And you think it does?” I asked.

Sterling's expression was grim. “I think we're out of options. We need whatever he knows about the seals, or we're all screwed.”

Sean's jaw tightened. “Fine. Where do we find this Hawk?”

Sterling reached inside his desk drawer, movements slow with fatigue. He pulled out a faded photograph, handling it with the care one might give to an ancient artifact. His expressionsoftened almost imperceptibly as he looked at it, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the gruff exterior.

He placed the photograph on the desk, sliding it toward me. “Thought you should see this before we go any further.”

I leaned forward, and my breath caught in my throat. The image showed three men standing in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. They were bloodied, exhausted, but smiling with the particular relief of those who've just survived something they shouldn't have.

Sterling was there, twenty years younger, his beard still dark, his stance confident. Beside him stood a lean, sharp-featured man I didn't recognize—Hawk, presumably. And on the other side, arm slung around Sterling's shoulders, was a face I knew only from other faded photos: my father, James Cross.

“The Tulsa siege,” Sterling said quietly, a distant look in his eyes as he recalled the memory. “Thirty vampires holed up in an abandoned factory. They'd been taking kids from the surrounding towns. We tracked them for weeks.”

I couldn't tear my eyes away from my father's face. He looked younger than I am now, his eyes bright with determination, a scar cutting across his chin that I didn't remember from my childhood. A hunter in his prime, before he met my mother, before he tried to leave the life behind.

“We were pinned down,” Sterling continued, his voice dropping lower. “Outnumbered, outmaneuvered. Hawk caught a machete to the leg. Was bleeding out. Your father...” He shook his head slightly, a mix of admiration and old grief. “Your father created a diversion. Drew half the nest away so I could get Hawk to safety. By all rights, he should have died that night.”

Sterling's finger tapped the image of the third man in the photo—Hawk, with his sharp features and watchful eyes. “He never forgot what your father did. Never stopped repaying that debt.”

I looked up, meeting Sterling's gaze. “What do you mean?”

Sterling's expression was carefully neutral. “After your parents were killed, Hawk disappeared. I thought he'd died. But he was hunting, following leads, tracking the thing that killed them.”

My heart pounded against my ribs. “Did he find it?”

Sterling shook his head. “Not exactly. But he found connections. Patterns. Signs pointing to something bigger.”

“The seals,” Sean said quietly from where he stood, his earlier skepticism softened by the personal connection.

Sterling nodded. “The seals. And the First Nephilim.”

I stared at the photograph again, at these three men who had no idea what destiny had in store for them. “So my father saved Hawk's life, and now Hawk's trying to return the favor by helping me?”

“It goes deeper than that,” Sterling said, his voice heavy with implication. “Your father and Hawk weren't just hunting partners. They respected each other deeply. Richard was one of the few people Hawk ever truly trusted.”

Sterling's eyes darkened with an emotion I couldn't quite place. “That's why Hawk's information about the seals matters. He's not just doing this for the world—he's doing it out of loyalty to Richard. And by extension, to you.”

“What else haven't you told me about my parents?” The question escaped before I could stop it, sharp with accusation.