The city did not sleep that night.

Lights burned behind office windows long past midnight, blinds half-drawn, shadows moving like restless ghosts. Phones stayed face-down but vibrating, messages piling up unread because everyone already knew—whatever came next would not be written in text.

It would be written in damage.

Alyssa stood alone in her office, jacket discarded on the back of her chair, sleeves rolled up. The glass wall reflected her image twice—one calm, one fractured. On her desk lay three phones, a tablet, and a folder stamped CONFIDENTIAL.

She hadn’t opened it yet.

She didn’t need to.

Her gaze drifted to the city below. Somewhere out there, Davin was...