Verity's pov

The air in Cassian’s office was filled with the soft scent of paper and ink, the quiet scratching of quills filling the space.

I had grown used to this atmosphere—Cassian hunched over his desk with unreadable focus, Caleb bent over his own pile of reports, and me tucked into the corner near the shelves with a book. The steady routine of such days had brought me a kind of peace. A dangerous one, perhaps, because peace always felt like the silence before a storm.

Kin was ...