Serena’s POV
The penthouse hums with a tense quiet, the late afternoon light streaming through the towering windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor littered with maps, files, and coffee cups from our relentless planning. The air carries a faint trace of cedar from Adrian’s cologne, a lingering reminder of our closeness during the warehouse stakeout preparation—his hand on my back, his breath warm against my ear as we strategized. I stand by the dining table, my white blouse sleeves rolled up, my hair loosely tied, my fingers tracing the edge of a photo—Nadia Kline’s last known image, her sharp features etched with a smile I once trusted. The revelation of her potential alliance with Lila, hinted at by the warehouse footage, has fractured my sense of security, a betrayal cu
