(LANCE )
The penthouse was quiet in the late afternoon light, the kind of silence that felt heavier than gunfire. I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city stretching out below like a kingdom I was no longer free to roam. The ankle monitor gave its soft, periodic chime — a gentle electronic heartbeat marking every permitted step within these walls. The scent of fresh coffee and Eliona’s herbal tea lingered in the air, mixing with the faint citrus of the compliance officer’s hand sanitizer from the morning review.
Eliona approached from behind, slipping her arms around my waist. Her touch was warm and grounding, her cheek resting against my back. The faint floral scent of her shampoo cut through the sterile undertones of the monitored space, reminding me why I had fought so hard t
