Amara's POV
The seventy two hours did not pass quietly.
I had known they wouldn't.
Serena and Eleanor were not women who waited. They were women who moved and the specific quality of their stillness over the past forty eight hours had the particular tension of something coiled rather than something resting. I had felt it the way you felt weather coming, the specific atmospheric pressure of people with resources and motivation preparing their next sequence.
I had told Adrian.
He had said: I know. Let them move. Everything they do now is documented.
I had tried to find that reassuring.
It was partially reassuring.
The other part was the specific awareness of a woman who had been a target before and knew that documented and prevented were not the same thing.
Wednesday passed.
I work
