The room was quiet in a way that felt earned, not empty.

Alyssa sat by the window, knees drawn up on the couch, watching the city breathe beneath her. The lights outside were softer here—no sirens, no flashing cameras, no names whispered like curses. Just the hum of distance. Safety, temporary and fragile.

Ethan stood a few steps away, his jacket still on, his hands clenched as if he hadn’t yet convinced his body that the danger had passed.

“You should be resting,” he said.

“I am,” Alyssa replied, without turning. “This is the first time my head hasn’t been screaming.”

That made him quiet.

He moved closer, slow, deliberate,...