LOGIN“I had a sister,” Lucas says, and the words are so out of register for him that I almost miss them. My brain latches onto the tense: had. He lets the word hang, as if giving it permission to hurt. “She was younger, smarter, meaner. Used to say the only thing worth being in this world was necessary.
The rain’s ramped up since sunset, gone from window dressing to full performance: droplets ricocheting down the glass in fat, shivering streaks, each line gathering speed before splintering against the aluminum frame. At this hour, the city’s more abstraction than place—just a haze of sodium arcs an
I turn, slowly, and look at him. The wolf inside is quiet, attentive, ready to see if this man is a threat or an ally. Lucas meets my gaze, not backing down. Not this time. I cross to the table, pick up the pen, and set it down exactly where it belongs. “Next time,” I say, voice so even it’s almo
“She’s your informant?” I ask, flat. He shakes his head, once. “She’s my sister.” The sentence lands with the weight of a dropped anvil, flattening the air between us. I go still. My knuckles whiten around the pen. For the first time in years, I actually stop breathing for a beat. I set the pen d
My skin goes tight at the back of my neck. “How considerate.” He lets the jab land. He deserves it, and he knows it. He pushes the folder forward, but keeps two fingers on it, as if it might fly away if not anchored. The tremor in his wrist is so slight most people would miss it. I’m not most peopl
The war-room is a box of dark glass and exhaustion. I can see the city in negative, every light doubled and blurred, raindrops streaking down the floor-to-ceiling window in irregular pulses. The only real illumination comes from the desk lamp—a single halogen column burning through shadows, flatteni
The crosswalk sign flashes red as I approach, an unwavering command to stop, to wait, to hold. I heed it, just this once. There is no harm in pausing when I know what lies ahead. The penthouse is a world apart from the one I now move through, but I carry pieces of it with me, fragments of luxury an
The first hum of traffic stirs beneath the apartment, the city awakening like a great beast stretching itself from slumber. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet meeting the warmth of the hardwood with practiced silence. In the hush, I hear the measured tick of my wristwatch from acros
There is a freedom in it, a temptation that digs claws deep into my resolve and leaves it ragged and bleeding. I have spent a lifetime restraining the urge, tightening the leash until it bites into my own flesh. But the promise of release is a seductive whisper, its breath warm against my neck, its
The lock clicks behind me, each sound an echoing note of freedom. I inhale the promise of the morning and the heavy shroud of Derek’s latest message unfurls in the back of my mind. I will not think about it, about him, until I must. The weight of obligation falls away as I step forward, closing the







