Damian's smirk didn't waver.
If anything, it deepened.
I clenched my jaw, keeping my expression neutral as he adjusted his stance, exuding confidence.
"Mr. Leviathan," he said smoothly, "are you familiar with the individuals known as Mr. Dome, Mr. Lust, Mr. Fade, and Mr. Anvil?"
I froze.
Not outwardly. But internally, every alarm in my head rang at once.
I didn't recognize those names.
Except for one.
Mr. Dome. The imposter from the trial I had been a juror for. The man who had stolen the Masked Syndicate's name to cover his own crimes.
I met Damian's gaze, forcing calm into my voice. "I have heard of Mr. Dome," I admitted. "But we are not affiliated. As for the others, I have no knowledge of them."
Damian turned toward the Lie Detector.
The man—stoic, unreadable—nodded slightly. "He speaks the truth."
A small flicker of relief settled in my chest.
That was it.
If I had no knowledge of them, how could I be responsible for their crimes?
But then—
Damian smiled.
