ALEXANDER
By the time we got close to the main gates, I was already trying to make sense of things in my head, all to no avail.
Kyle walked beside me calmly. He hadn’t said much since we started walking.
The patrol post came into view, lights dimmed but still active. Two guards stood at attention, their postures rigid, alert.
And then I saw her.
Helen was sitting on one of the benches just outside the post, legs crossed neatly at the ankles, hands folded in her lap as if she were waiting for tea to be served rather than standing on the edge of a security perimeter at three in the morning.
Helen Blackwell looked… fine.
Her hair was perfectly arranged. Her clothes were clean, unwrinkled. There were no visible injuries, no signs of struggle, no exhaustion in her posture. She looked cal
