We didn't finish the conversation.
That was the thing about crises. They didn't pause for the personal ones. Adrian had just said something that rearranged the furniture of everything I thought I understood about the last five years, and Katherine Reyes had called before I could respond, and now we were in the back of his car at midnight moving through a city that didn't know or care that something significant had just cracked open between us.
He sat beside me. Close, because the car required it. Neither of us spoke.
The silence wasn't hostile. It was something more complicated: the silence of two people who had been interrupted at the exact wrong moment and were both aware of it and neither had the bandwidth to address it while moving toward a federal building at midnight to hear somet
