AVA
The night air along Regent’s Canal was cold and heavy with the scent of rain-soaked stone and murky water. I walked toward the old boathouse alone, my footsteps echoing softly on the wet path. My black coat hid the wire recorder pinned to my collar and the slim tracker bracelet on my wrist. Daniel and Rafe were positioned in the shadows across the canal and near the tree line…close enough to intervene but far enough not to be seen.
The boathouse door creaked as I pushed it open. Julian was already inside, leaning against a weathered wooden post with his arms crossed. A fresh white bandage peeked from beneath the sleeve of his tailored shirt. He looked exhausted, his usually impeccable hair slightly disheveled, eyes shadowed with stress. This was not the confident Julian I had known.
