Anastasia’s POV:
I woke up on Marcus’s couch in the morning with a crick in my neck and the particular disorientation of someone who had fallen asleep in the middle of a crisis and was now being reintroduced to it all at once.
The kitchen light was on.
Lucas was already up, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and Celeste’s folder open in front of him and the particular focused stillness of a man who had either not slept at all or had slept briefly and efficiently and returned to work before anyone noticed. He looked up when I sat up and something in his face did the thing it had been doing since the airfield, settling when he saw me, like a tension he had been carrying released slightly.
“Coffee,” he said. “Marcus made it before he went back to sleep.”
I stood and poured myself
