POV: Ayla

The compound finally falls quiet for the first time in four long days, the tension of the countdown breaking all at once like a storm that has passed overhead and left the air strangely still. The operative is caught, the transfer papers are evidence now, and the weight that had pressed against my chest for so long begins to lift, leaving behind a different kind of ache—one born of exhaustion, relief, and something deeper I don’t yet have words for. I sit on the edge of my bed in the soft lamplight, still wearing the simple shirt I slept in the night before, when the door opens without...