Orla didn’t sleep.
She lay beside Stanley in the dark, her eyes fixed on the ceiling while his arm remained draped over her waist, heavy with exhaustion. His breathing was even, but she could feel it — the tension still wound tight in his muscles, the unshed fury lingering behind his eyelids.
Callen had walked away.
Roth had disappeared.
And even though they were technically safe… the silence felt like a lie.
She slipped out from under his arm quietly, careful not to wake him. Her bare feet moved across the cold wooden floor as she padded into the small kitchen. The digital clock blinked 3:16 AM. The city outside was hushed, but Orla didn’t trust quiet anymore. Too many ghosts lived in it.
She poured herself water, then leaned against the counter and let her thoughts unravel.
Stanle
