Calculation.
“She wasn’t supposed to win that fast.”
“No,” another voice replies. “She wasn’t supposed to win at all.”
Silence stretches.
Then breaks.
“Change the game.”
The words are quiet.
But final.
And somewhere far away—
The consequences begin.
29
Lark
Location: Temporary Safehouse — Outside Lisbon
Time: Pre-Dawn
The new place is quiet.
Not peaceful.
Not comforting.
Just… empty.
Borrowed space.
No pictures on the walls.
No history in the air.
No imprint of anyone who stayed long enough to matter.
Just a bed.
A chair.
A narrow window overlooking dark hills fading into a sky that hasn’t decided if it’s morning yet.
Everything feels suspended.
Like the world hasn’t caught up yet.
Aaron sits on the edge of the bed while I clean his shoulder.
The overhead light is soft, but it still catches the tension in his frame. The way he holds himself like if he relaxes too much, something will break.
He hasn’t said much since we got here.
