Rain crawled down the penthouse windows in silver streams, turning Manhattan into a blurred galaxy of light beneath the storm.
The city was still awake.
News helicopters still circled the Shard.
Reporters were probably still screaming Maya's name into microphones downstairs.
But up here, above the noise and the cameras and the collapse of empires, the world had finally gone quiet.
The penthouse doors slid shut behind them.
Maya exhaled shakily as she stepped out of her heels near the entrance. Every muscle in her body ached from tension, adrenaline, and exhaustion. The charcoal tuxedo jacket still clung to her shoulders like armor she hadn't fully learned how to remove.
For months, she had lived inside survival mode.
Tonight, survival was over.
And she didn't know what came after.
