POV: Vivianne St. Clair.
The air inside the abandoned greenhouse was heavy with damp soil and broken glass. Moonlight streamed in through the jagged roof, catching the dust in silvery halos. Vivianne stood alone near the rusted potting bench, phone in hand, voice low.
**VIVIANNE (on phone)**
We’ve been quiet long enough. They’re rebuilding, yes—but slowly. If we move soon, we can—
She froze.
A footstep. Soft, but not hidden.
She turned quickly, phone still in her hand.
**JULIAN**
Who were you calling?
He stepped out from the shadows near the old fig tree, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
Vivianne straightened, mask slipping quickly back into place.
**VIVIANNE**
Just tying up loose ends.
**JULIAN**
Don’t lie to me, not anymore.
A beat.
**JULIAN**
You were reaching out to the
