The next morning arrived with a winter sky the color of bruised steel.
Mara woke with a dull ache in her chest — not pain, not fear, but anticipation.
Her magic hummed beneath her skin like an engine idling.
Something was coming.
She felt it in her bones.
She felt it in her breath.
And she felt it the moment she opened her apartment door and found Noah sitting against the opposite wall, head tipped back, eyes half-lidded with sleep.
He sat up the second she stepped out.
“Mara.”
Her heart clenched. “You didn’t sleep.”
“I did,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lightly. Here. In case something happened.”
Her breath hitched. “You didn’t have to—”
“Yes,” he said firmly, pushing himself to his feet. “I did.”
She hated that her eyes stung.
He noticed — of course he noticed —
