Naomi’s POV

The drive back to the city felt longer than it should have.

The wind carried the scent of rain and burned metal through the open windows, and though Cassian’s hand never left the wheel, his mind was miles away, probably tracing lines of war I couldn’t yet see.

The note burned in his coat pocket like a live ember. I could almost feel its heat from where I sat. Beatrice’s handwriting haunted me, every word felt like a ghost come to accuse.

When we reached the safe house, the air was thick with tension. Guards were changing shifts, radios buzzing, eyes flicking toward us for answers they wouldn’t...