Taryn
The leather of Dean’s chair creaked beneath me as I scribbled into my notebook, the pages filled with bullet points and arrows, scratched-out strategies and half-formed thoughts. The silence in the office was strangely soothing. For the first time in what felt like weeks, there were no alarms, no heat-fueled panic, no threats looming just beyond the tree line.
Only paper. Ink. My own thoughts.
Rebuild Eclipse housing first.
Establish joint warrior training.
Check in with Heidi—library overhaul?
A knock at the connecting door made me pause, pen mid-word.
“Come in,” I called.
Caz stepped through, already holding two mugs. One was mine — mint tea, just the way I liked it. His gaze moved across the room, settling on the notebook in my lap.
“You’ve been in here a while,” he said,
