Chapter Two

Cracks in the Quiet

The first knock came two days later, just after seven in the evening.

I was at the counter rinsing a plate when the sound arrived three short raps, neither urgent nor particularly polite. For a moment I considered ignoring it. The building had other tenants. None of them had given me a reason to expect company. Still, I dried my hands and opened the door.

Cassian stood in the hallway holding an empty mug, hair damp like he had only recently showered, the scent of whiskey already faint on him despite the early hour.

“Sugar,” he said, as if that single word explained the...