The city lay quiet beneath a sky the color of old steel, the kind of calm that only came after too many storms. From the top floor of the building, Alyssa watched the lights below flicker like distant embers—remnants of fires she had started, survived, and learned to control.

Her office no longer felt like a battlefield. It felt like a scar: healed on the surface, aching underneath.

She stood with her arms crossed, back straight, posture flawless. Power had reshaped her body language the way pain reshaped her heart.

Behind her, the door opened without announcement.

“You’re still awake,” Ethan said.

She didn’t turn. “You’re still here.”

A pause....