I'm in the middle of my afternoon workout when I hear the knock. Not a hurried rap or Natalia's impatient drumming, but three solid, measured thumps. I set down the dumbbells and wipe sweat from my forehead. The intrusion is unexpected—I've carefully scheduled my routines around everyone else's habits in this house. Kimiko should be at her book club, Natalia at special training with her Cryo-Lich Ring, and Luka...
Luka should be at work.
"Come in," I call, grabbing a towel as the door swings open.
It's him. But something's wrong.
Luka fills the doorframe as always, a mountain dressed in casual clothes instead of his usual Hunter gear. But the mountain looks... smaller somehow. His shoulders hang an inch lower than usual. The permanent crinkles around his eyes—the mark of a man who's spent a lifetime smiling—are smooth with tension. Most telling of all, he doesn't immediately boom out some embarrassingly enthusiastic greeting.
