I stepped back into the apartment just past midnight.
It was quiet—not the strained quiet of tension, but the natural kind that came after a long, full day. The kind of quiet that wrapped around the bones instead of rattling against them. Camille's jacket was folded over the arm of the couch. Sienna's boots were lined up neatly by the door. A cup of half-finished tea sat on the windowsill, still faintly warm. Home, at least for now.
I moved slowly through the hall, careful not to wake anyone. My joints still ached—not from pain, but from the weight of inertia. The feeling of having slowed down just enough to remember how fast I'd been moving before.
Everyone else had gone to bed. Evelyn's was fast asleep in the master bedroom. Sienna was curled on one end of the couch, blanket wrapped around her like a shield. Camille was… somewhere between artfully passed out and fashionably unconscious. But Alexis—Alexis was still up.
Light poured from beneath the office door.
