The night was alive with tension. Outside the abandoned factory where they had taken refuge, the city seemed deceptively quiet. A crescent moon hung low, casting pale light through the cracked windows. Every creak of metal or distant car horn made Adrian’s senses sharpen like blades.
Nora sat on an overturned crate, her elbows resting on her knees, eyes fixed on the dusty floor. “You’re pacing again,” she muttered without looking up.
“I’m thinking,” Adrian replied, though his stride didn’t slow.
“You think loud.”
He stopped, rubbing his temples. “We’re too exposed here. If the Blacklist knows we’re in the city, this place will be the first they search.”
“Then why are we still here?” she asked, finally looking up at him.
“Because our contact hasn’t arrived yet,” Adrian said. His voice
