Zara stayed exactly where she was, hand still hovering near his shoulder, unable to look away. The laptop glowed faintly on the coffee table beside him, its screen the only steady light in the room. Security reports lay scattered everywhere — maps pinned with red markings, photographs of abandoned warehouses, CCTV screenshots, pages of handwritten notes. None of it looked organized. It looked like the work of a man who had forgotten to sleep. Her gaze drifted back to his face, slack with exhaustion, and then down to his hand. The bandage was soaked clean through now, a slow dark stain spreading across the gauze. She frowned. "Idiot." The word slipped out before she'd decided to say it. She stepped fully into the room, careful not to wake him, and only then noticed how cold the office was compared to the rest of the penthouse — like he'd forgotten to feel that too. An untouched cup of coffee sat on the desk, long gone cold. He hadn't even finished it. Her eyes moved across the
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