The station at night had a way of pretending it was calmer than it ever truly was. The fluorescent lights hummed like insects trapped in glass, and the air smelled faintly of burnt coffee and old paper. Everything looked clean in the way places that hid messes behind locked doors often did.
Marcus stood just inside the entrance, shoulders squared, the echo of Samantha's last look still warm on his skin. Kai hovered a step behind him, restless energy coiled tight, while Callum moved with the quiet precision of someone who never wasted a motion. They didn't speak at first. The silence between them was thick with things unsaid, with the unspoken agreement that whatever waited on the other side of the hallway wasn't going to be simple.
Castellanos met them halfway down the corridor, her expression pulled tight like she'd been bracing for a storm and found out it was a hurricane. "You're late," she said, which was her version of hello when she was worried.
