The apartment had fallen quiet again.
A different kind of quiet than last night—this one flavored with the faint scent of coffee grounds and morning dust, the creak of cooling pipes, and the slow, steady breathing of a team finally at rest. Alexis hadn't stirred since collapsing. I'd managed to lay her gently across the couch and pull a blanket over her without waking her. Every now and then, she muttered fragments of theories in her sleep, which I chose to interpret as endearing instead of deeply concerning.
I stood alone in the hallway, bathed in the pale gold light leaking through the tall windows. My reflection hovered in the glass—exhausted, upright, and alert. No shaking. No overstimulation. No sense of imminent combustion in my blood.
Just stillness.
It was intoxicating.
