She’s still sleeping when I slip out from under her knees and ease myself off the couch.Finn stirs but doesn’t wake.Atlas hasn’t slept at all—his eyes stay fixed on the door like if he blinks, something will get in.
There’s no danger now.
But try telling that to Atlas’s nervous system.
He doesn’t move when I leave the room to take a call.The hallway feels too small for news like this.
Santos from Ops speaks fast.
“We need statements.All of you.ASAP.Security wants a full rundown of last night.”
My jaw clenches.“She’s resting.”
“We need her too.”
“She’s resting,” I repeat, sharper.
A pause.
Then: “Okay.Noon?”
I exhale through my nose.“Make it one.”
“Done.”
I hang up and turn back toward the living room.Atlas is exactly where I left him—arms folded, foot tapping once every ten seconds like a timer ticking down to something he’s not ready to admit.
When he notices me, his gaze sharpens.
“What’d Ops say?”
“One.They want statements.All of us.”
His jaw flexes.“She’s not walking into that alone.”
“She’s not doing anything alone,” I say.
He nods once.
Movement draws my attention—Wren sits up slowly, hair tangled, eyes groggy.The blanket slips off her shoulder before she catches it, pulling it tight around herself.
Before I can move, Finn is already awake, sliding a hand to her back.
“You good?”he murmurs.
She blinks.“I’m okay.”
Her voice is hoarse.
Not weak.
Used.
She looks around the apartment, confusion flickering across her face before memory settles in.A small tremor runs through her fingers; Finn catches it and covers her hand with his.
Atlas steps forward.“You hungry?”
Wren nods once, small.“Yeah.A little.”
