Kelly’s POV
The rhythm of my mornings had started to form its own shape, it had become structured, predictable, and almost comforting. In a strange way, working under Michael Donovan was the closest thing to consistency I’d had in months.
The irony wasn’t lost on me, because the man himself was anything but predictable. He was cold, controlled and quietly intense. Yet the routine around him never faltered.
I woke before my alarm rang, staring up at the ceiling of my studio apartment. The place was small, but it held a sense of privacy that grounded me. I rolled out of bed, pulling my hair into a bun, and started getting ready in silence, letting the hum of my old fridge fill the room.
The moment I stepped outside my apartment, the chill of Seattle morning air was enough to clear my mi
