Three weeks changed the pack house without changing its walls.
Grimridge still smelled like damp stone and smoke when it rained, still echoed when boots moved through the long corridors, still held the same cold corners where old decisions lingered, but the rhythm underneath it had shifted. Guard rotations were tighter now, not frantic, just cleaner. Service routes had new rules. Keys had new keepers. Even the way clerks carried sealed orders looked different, more careful, as if everyone had learned that paper could be a weapon in the wrong hands.
Most importantly, Sable wasn't living behind one barred door anymore.
Cassian had built her a safe route instead.
