Private Reckoning
The balcony overlooked the Tagus River. Night had thinned Lisbon into silhouette and reflection—gold seams along the waterfront, dark water beneath them, moving like it had never heard the word jurisdiction in its life. No flags out here. No witnesses. No neutral protocol. Just tide and wind and the low, constant scrape of the city against itself. I had chosen this spot on purpose. If I was going to speak plainly, I wanted air that didn't belong to anyone. Garrett joined me without announcement. He moved the way he had in the chamber—measured, economical, not apologetic. The kind of man who treated entrances like logistics. For a moment, we stood side by side without speaking. The wind carried salt and something metallic from the docks below. It tugged at my hair like it was im
- Writer
