Nora found herself awake long before sunrise. The city was still wrapped in darkness when she slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Adrian. Her mind buzzed—it had been a quiet few hours since the sniper attack, but she couldn’t shake the cold finger of danger winding through every thought.
She moved silently through the suite and into the hallway. Her reflection in the glass door of her closet looked tired. Old. Worn from pretending. But she was still here. Alive. Smarter than yesterday, maybe.
In the fridge, she found coffee. Strong, bitter, and necessary. She sipped it quietly, listening to the hum of equipment that never slept. Screens flickered in the operation room—red dot maps, whiteboard with names, and a blurred list behind encrypted layers.
Her curiosity was too loud.
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