Elara's POV
Something crossed his face. Brief, quick, there and gone.
I recognized the controlled frustration he usually wore, the cold impatience. This was different. This looked like helplessness.
He'd reached for the lever he always relied on, and for once, it didn't move.
His money hadn't worked. The Council hadn't moved. Whatever he'd tried through official channels had come back empty, and he was standing in my kitchen at nine o'clock at night because he'd run out of other approaches.
I almost felt something about that. Almost.
"I have things to do tomorrow," I said.
"Elara—"
"If you're not going to leave, I'm calling the police."
He looked at me for a long moment. He was calculating whether I meant it. He arrived at the right answer, and he didn't like it.
He left.
I stoo
