Aria woke up alone.
Damien's side of the bed was cold. Rain still ticked against the slate overhead, softer now, and grey light leaked through a window the size of a cereal box.
She checked her phone. 6:52 a.m.
She did the math before she could stop herself. Valérie's video had come in a little before seven last night.
Sixty hours.
A text was waiting under the time.
[Ken: Wheels up. Box secured. ETA tonight. Please inform Mr. Sinclair that I have not slept, and I would like that noted.]
Aria typed back. [Noted. Lovingly.]
She pulled on yesterday's hoodie and went looking for her husband.
She found him in the kitchen. She found everybody in the kitchen.
