The morning was quiet, almost unnervingly so. Rain had stopped overnight, leaving the streets glistening and reflective, each puddle catching the dim light of early dawn. James’s steps echoed faintly as he made his way to the bookshop. Every sound seemed amplified, every shadow heavier. Even after all the confrontations, all the subtle dangers, the city still carried a tension that made his chest tighten.
He pushed the door open. The familiar chime was almost comforting. Penelope was at the counter, her movements careful, deliberate, but the tension in her shoulders hadn’t entirely gone. She arranged books with precision, hands lingering over the edges, a flicker of hesitation in her gestures. Her hair fell loosely around her face, a strand brushing against her cheek, and she brushed it b
