Rissa’s POV

Morning comes slowly in the city.

Sunlight slips through the thin curtains of the bedroom window, spreading across the wooden floor in long golden lines. Somewhere outside, a delivery truck rumbles down the street. Human voices drift upward from the sidewalk. Someone laughs. Someone argues.

The world continues moving as if nothing is wrong.

As if there is no war building in the shadows.

I wake before Mark.

That almost never happens.

He sleeps lightly, always alert even in ...