My reaction is subtle, nothing more than a pause in my pen. Ardaleon notices anyway.
“And,” he continues, “you let her go?”
A grin pulls at my mouth before I stop it. Small. involuntary. Irritating even to feel forming.
Eden.
I haven’t spoken her name since the alley, but the thought of her slips through the cracks in my composure. Not weakness—just something unexpected. Something with teeth.
“I didn’t let her go,” I say.
Ardaleon raises a brow. “No?”
“I’m watching her. Constantly.”
His eyes brighten with interest, amusement, suspicion—he’s not sure which angle to take. “Why let her live at all?”
I close the file softly and turn in my chair, facing him fully. “She hasn’t done anything unusual.”
“Yet.”
“Exactly.” I rest my palms on the armrests, posture relaxed but intent. “If she runs to the police, I’ll know. If she tries to talk, I’ll know. If she steps a single inch outside her routine, I’ll know.”
He studies me carefully. “What will you do if she does?”
I meet his gaze without flinching. “Then I’ll take her.”
“Alive?” he asks, half teasing, half serious.
“Yes.”
His brows rise slightly. “Since when do witnesses get to breathe this long?”
I don’t answer immediately.
The truth is something I’m still circling myself. Something I’m not ready to give shape to. Eden is a variable I should have eliminated the moment she stepped back into the light that night.
Instead, I’ve done the opposite—woven her into my surveillance, folded her into the edges of my routines, tracked her steps with more attention than I’ve given to some enemies.
She’s not a threat, but she’s also not irrelevant either.
She’s soft in ways this city isn’t allowed to be. Sharp in ways she doesn’t recognize in herself. And every day I watch her, the thread between us pulls tighter.
Ardaleon leans against the wall, arms folded. “You’re distracted.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he counters, grinning slightly. “You’re thinking about her right now.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right. I hate how easily the thought of her curls through my mind—her wary eyes, her steadybreath in the alley, the tremor in her voice when she said my name.
I ignore his smile. “Focus on Molina. That’s our priority.”
“For now,” he says under his breath.
I stand, collecting my coat, preparing to head downstairs to finalize orders. “When you’ve finished assigning teams, send Viktor to me.”
Ardaleon pushes off the wall. “What about the girl?”
