In his room, Callum had a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, his mind replaying the image of Maren's silhouette half-hidden in the darkness of the hall. For reasons he couldn't quite name, an inexplicable restlessness simmered in his chest.
Sleep never came that night.
When the first rays of morning sunlight streamed into the room, the ashtray before him was already overflowing with crumpled stubs. He crushed the last cigarette out with decisive force, then rose and stalked into the bathroom.
When he emerged, the cold, unreadable mask he always wore had slipped perfectly back into place.
Outside his door, Nadia was already waiting.
The moment she saw him, she looped her arm through his with practiced ease, her sweet smile barely concealing the sharp edge of complaint beneath. "
