I wrapped both hands around my mug and leaned against the railing.
The training yard was visible below, already occupied.
There was a group of Gammas running drills in the early light, their movements precise and synchronized in a way that made violence look like choreography from up here.
I watched them and thought about learning. About Gideon’s offer to teach me. About the difference between waiting to be rescued and deciding not to wait.
I was so focused on the yard that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me until they stopped.
Two women stood in the terrace doorway with coffee mugs.
The taller one – dark-skinned, close-cropped hair, a quality of stillness that spoke of years spent standing watch in rooms where things happened – had clearly been mid-sentence when she stopped.
