The tension from the night persisted until the morning. It sharpened it, if anything. The city was still black outside the glass walls when Emly awoke before morning, her mind full of unspoken things. Now, the penthouse felt different—aware rather than dangerous. As though the walls themselves were paying attention. Adrian was awake already. Before she saw him, she could feel him standing close to the window in an ironed shirt with rolled sleeves and a stiff posture. She could tell by his stillness that he hadn't slept much. That kind of control only emerged when rest had failed. When she walked into the room, he didn't turn. He muttered, "You ought to have told me you planned to follow him." It wasn't a charge. It was discipline cloaked in concern.
Emly honestly said, "I didn't know unti
