The penthouse was finally quiet.
Not the artificial silence of the Shard during business hours—where every polished hallway hid surveillance and strategy—but a real silence. Heavy. Intimate. Fragile.
Rain traced slow lines down the towering glass windows overlooking Manhattan, turning the city lights into blurred rivers of gold and white.
For the first time in months, nobody was hunting them.
No cameras.
No board meetings.
No Saints.
No Sovereigns.
Just Maya and Reid.
Maya stood barefoot near the window, still wearing Reid's oversized charcoal shirt over bare legs. Her hair was loose, falling in dark waves around her shoulders, slightly damp from the shower she had taken after Elena's departure.
Elena was gone now.
New passport.
New identity.
A quiet life waiting somewhere across the ocean.
Safe.
Free.
And somehow, that realization left an ache in Maya's chest she hadn't expected.
"She'll be okay," Reid said quietly from behind her.
