Elijah's expression hardened, but his tone remained deceptively calm. "You know why I'm here, Noah. Don't play stupid games with me."
Noah sighed again, this time with a touch of exasperation. "Elijah, you come here every week, and every week I tell you the same thing: I don't know where Ash is."
Elijah's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "You're lying."
Noah's gaze didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that might have been sympathy if Elijah hadn't known better. "If I knew, I'd tell you," Noah said, his voice smooth, almost too smooth to believe.
"You expect me to believe that?" Elijah exclaimed furiously.
Noah met his gaze without flinching. "Believe what you want. But I'm telling you the truth. I don't know where Ash has gone."
Elijah stared at him for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception, any crack in Noah's façade. But Noah remained unreadable, as always, his expression calm and collected.
