Rowan shook his head. “If this proves Harrington did something wrong, it belongs with investigators, not in your pocket.” Alden’s expression hardened, the friendly historian vanishing. “You always were sentimental,” he muttered. He reached for a crowbar leaning by the wall, fingers tightening around the metal handle.
“I won’t let you ruin this,” Alden said, raising the crowbar. Rowan stepped back, knocking into a shelf. “You’re not thinking clearly,” Rowan protested. Alden swung, the blow glancing off Rowan’s shoulder and sending him sprawling. Pain shot through him as the flashlight skittered away across the floor.