"That's good."
We stood looking out at the city together. I turned in his arms. His expression was fierce and confident.
"I love you," I said.
"I love you too." He kissed me. "Now come back to bed. We have one more night before Seattle. I want to remember what this feels like."
Chapter eighteen
Rune - Seattle - May 16
The air tasted different the moment we stepped off the jetway.
Colder than San Diego, sharper than I'd expected for May. It carried a metallic edge: rain on concrete, salt from the Sound, and something industrial underneath.
Sea-Tac Airport moved us through customs with practiced efficiency. The corridors were shorter than LAX, cleaner than SFO. Signs pointed toward baggage claim in clear English and Korean.
We cleared customs in twelve minutes. That was the first mismatch.
Tour stops in new cities always involved minor delays. Credential verification. Unfamiliar protocols. Staff who needed to double-check manifests before allowing passage.
Seattle presented none of that.
The handler waiting at baggage claim, a woman in her thirties with a tablet and a Guardians lanyard, knew our names without checking her screen. "Rune, Jinwoo, Taemin, Minjae. Welcome to Seattle."
Our luggage appeared within ninety seconds. The local crew loaded it with practiced efficiency. No one asked which bags belonged to whom.
I glanced back toward Griffin. He stood three spots back in line, scanning the terminal. His homecoming didn't appear comfortable.
But this was still his city.
Three black vans idled at the curb. A local security contractor stood beside the lead vehicle. He spotted Griffin and raised his hand. Recognition between professionals.
Griffin returned the gesture. Minimal. Controlled.
We climbed into van two. The convoy pulled away. Light, intermittent rain followed us.
The driver spoke without prompting from us. "There's an accident near the convention center. Pike and 7th. We can reroute through the Denny Regrade if needed."
Griffin, in the passenger seat, turned his head. "Who reported the accident?"
"Traffic monitoring. Standard city feed."
Griffin settled back. "Confirming."
The Fairmont Olympic appeared ahead, a historic stone facade among modern towers. I stepped out onto Seattle pavement for the first time. The air smelled of coffee and wet concrete.
Griffin scanned the entrance and the buildings across from us. His attention lingered on a building two blocks north. Then he looked at me.
Before he could speak, Rebecca, a local handler, approached with a tablet. "Rune, you're in 1811. One thing: there's a minor change in tonight's venue walk-through. The main entrance to Climate Pledge Arena is undergoing cosmetic work. We'd recommend using the south loading entrance."
She showed me the documentation. Timestamped. Official.
"Griffin should confirm," I said.
When Rebecca walked away from Griffin moments later, his jaw was tighter.
My room faced Elliott Bay. The water was visible between the buildings. Grey sky pressed down on grey water.
