I lie in Ethan's arms, my head pressed against his chest, heart still echoing the rhythm of yesterday's battle—the morning sunlight slices through the blinds, pale and deliberate, landing in stripes across the floor.
But even in the quiet, my mind races. I can't stop replaying that conversation in the study—the one I shouldn't have overheard but did. Selene, her uncle, and Marcus. The networks, leverage, and strategy. Everything clicks now, sharp and cutting, and yet… somehow, it energizes me.
Ethan shifts beside me, warm and heavy with the unspoken comfort he brings. "Morning," he murmurs, voice low and intimate, brushing a whisper against my ear.
"Morning," I answer, voice soft and measured.
