The night did not sleep, and neither did Carson.

He sat at the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, the skyline flickering beyond the window like a pulse that refused to die. Justina stirred behind him, her voice soft with sleep.

“Carson?”

He didn’t turn. “Go back to sleep.”

“You said that two hours ago.”

She rose quietly, pulling the sheet around her shoulders, and came to stand beside him. His face was a silhouette against the glass, all sharp edges and ...