A D R I A N
Lanterns swing above the promenade, their paper skins glowing soft as fire, but all I see are teeth. Edges in the light. Gaps in control.
The drill is over, the beach cleared, yet my pulse hasn’t slowed. Rope cut clean. Radios dead. Tents misplaced. None of it coincidence.
And Elara—standing in the sand with her jaw set, refusing to yield even when she looked at me like I was more than the Valcrosse mask. Like she almost believed I belonged in the dirt with her.
Now she walks at my side through the lantern-lit crowd, the wind tugging her hair loose, her steps quick like she doesn’t want to admit this counts as walking together.
“After a day like that, you should be asleep,” I say, voice low, steady.
She shoots me a sharp look, gray-green eyes catching the lantern glow. “
