The city had returned to its quiet routine, but Elara felt the echo of the night’s chaos in every step. She walked through the penthouse corridor, her hand brushing against the wall as though seeking reassurance. Her brother was safe, tucked away in a secure location Adrian had prepared, but that knowledge did little to ease the gnawing tension in her chest.
Adrian moved silently behind her, his usual composure intact, but the weight in his eyes betrayed the toll of the night. He did not speak immediately; he simply watched, letting her process.
“Do you ever sleep?” she asked finally, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, almost tired.
“Sometimes,” he replied quietly. “Not much. And never after nights like last night.”
She glanced at him, noticing the faint lines beneath his eyes,
