The office floor was nearly empty when Rafael stepped out of the elevator. The lights were dimmed to night mode, casting long, cold reflections across the glass walls. This was Ethan’s territory—quiet, controlled, fortified by silence. Rafael welcomed that. Silence made confrontations sharper.

He walked straight to Ethan’s office and pushed the door open without knocking.

Ethan stood by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, staring down at the city like it owed him something. He didn’t turn around.

“You’re bold,” Ethan said calmly. “Or stupid.”

“Depends who you ask,” Rafael replied, closing the door behind him. “I came for answers. Not permission.”

Ethan finally turned. His expression was...