- SERAPHINE
The drive back to the apartment was a blur of streetlights and heavy silence. By the time Declan killed the engine in the underground garage, the adrenaline that had sustained me at the clock tower had completely evaporated, leaving me feeling like a hollowed-out shell.
We took the service elevator up in silence. The moment the door to the studio clicked shut, Declan didn’t even take off his jacket. He just pointed at the kitchen island.
"Phone. Now," he said, his voice clipped. "We need to shut down the Monday play before Caspian starts lighting fires we can’t put out."
I slumped onto a barstool, my bones feeling like lead. I pulled the encrypted burner from my pocket and laid it on the cold marble. "He’s going to think I’m getting cold feet, Declan. Caspian doesn't do 'pa
