Nyra didn’t move his hand away.
That was the first decision.
Not instinct. Not hesitation.
Choice.
Ronan’s fingers were still resting lightly against her sleeve, exactly where he’d pressed before, calm, steady, like he had all the time in the world. Around them, the bar carried on as if nothing had shifted. Glasses clinked. Low conversations threaded through the air.
Someone laughed too loudly in the corner.
Normal.
Everything looked normal.
Except it wasn’t.
Nyra could feel it now.
Not physically, not yet but mentally, like something had clicked into place behind her eyes. Every step she had taken since leaving the alley replayed itself with sharper clarity.
The turns.
The pauses.
The reflections.
Nothing.
Which meant it hadn’t been following her.
It had been with her.
Ny
