ELENA
The scent of smoke still lingered in the hallways, clinging to the stone like a memory that wouldn’t wash clean. No matter how many air purifiers buzzed or how many cleaning crews had been rotated in and out overnight, the Summit venue still felt scorched. Haunted.
My boots echoed softly against the tiled floor as I moved down the corridor, past sections still cordoned off by caution tape, shattered windows covered in plywood. It was early—dawn maybe—but no one had been sleeping. Not really. Not since the attack.
I hadn’t changed out of yesterday’s clothes. No time. No energy. I’d only pulled my hair into a tight braid and re-applied some powder and lipstick, because this wasn’t about comfort anymore. It was about optics. Appearances. Holding the center together.
The Alpha Counci
