second shelf from the top was a small, cylindrical device.
A tiny red LED light pulsed rhythmically in the dim light of the study.
Ethan froze. He knew that bookshelf. He knew every inch of this room. That device had not been there yesterday.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Ethan reached out and pointed a trembling finger directly at the bookshelf. "What... is that?" he whispered, the anger instantly draining from his face, replaced by a sudden, chilling dread.
Richard and Clara stopped. Richard lifted his head, his tired eyes following Ethan’s extended finger. Clara’s breath hitched, a sudden paleness washing over her complexion as she took a half-step backward.
Ethan stepped closer to the bookshelf, his hand hovering over the device.