The city breathed around them in low, distant hums—traffic like a pulse beneath the skin, neon bleeding into puddles on the pavement. Alyssa stood by the window of her office long after midnight, the lights of the skyline reflected across the glass like a fractured crown. She had rebuilt everything. She had won. And yet, the silence gnawed at her with familiar teeth.

The door behind her clicked softly.

She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.

“You’re late,” Alyssa said, voice steady, controlled—too controlled.

Ethan stopped just inside the threshold. Months apart had carved new lines into his face, sharpened him in places she hadn’t known could be honed. He...