The night pressed close against the glass walls of the penthouse, heavy with rain that streaked the city lights into trembling lines of gold and ash. Inside, the silence was brittle a quiet so sharp it seemed ready to splinter at the faintest word.

Amelia stood by the window, her reflection ghostly beside the skyline. Her arms were folded tight against her chest, not from cold but from something deeper a restraint against the tremor that wanted to escape her hands. Behind her, Alexander ...