The streets of Prague were chaos wrapped in calm.
On the surface, nothing had changed—tourists sipped coffee, trams buzzed along cobblestone lines, and lovers strolled hand-in-hand beneath the cathedral shadow. But underneath it all, the world was cracking open.
And Orla was the one lighting the fuse.
She stood on the balcony of a rented apartment above a bookstore, fingers tight around the iron railing, watching the crowd move below. Across the room, Stanley adjusted the settings on the burner laptop. The flash drive she’d risked her life for sat beside it like a loaded gun.
“They know we’re here,” he said without turning around.
“I know.”
“You’re not worried?”
Orla’s mouth twisted. “I’m always worried.”
Stanley looked at her then—really looked.
Hair still damp from the shower. A
