ALEX.
When I got home that evening, the house felt different, the air heavier and quieter, like the walls had absorbed something unpleasant and were holding onto it. I sank into an armchair and barely set my bag down when I heard his voice.
“Alex.”
I turned toward the hallway. Niko stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but sharp around the edges.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
Something in his tone made my stomach tighten. “Of course. What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer that. Instead, he asked, “Where were you?”
I blinked. “I told you earlier. I had to stop by—”
“You didn’t tell me where,” he cut in.
I frowned. “I didn’t think I needed to give you a full itinerary.”
His jaw clenched. “You disappeared for hours.”
“I didn’t disappear,” I said carefully. “I was about my own bu
