“Yes.”
He glances at me briefly before returning his attention to the road. “Security will increase.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
We stop at a red light. I watch pedestrians move along the sidewalk. A woman in a red coat laughs at something her companion says. A man jogs past with headphones on, oblivious to anything beyond his music.
Normal life continues.
We pull into the underground garage of the apartment building, the security gate lowering behind us. Leo exits first, scanning the perimeter. Only after he nods does he open my door.
We take the elevator up. The ride is silent, smooth, and monitored. A small camera sits in the upper corner, the red light blinking. When the doors open, another guard stands near the corridor junction. He inclines his head as we pass.
Inside the apartment, the quiet meets me immediately. I set my bag on the kitchen counter and pause, taking in the quiet. The refrigerator cycles on softly.
My phone vibrates in my hand.
Kiren.
I answer before the second ring completes.
“I’m fine,” I begin automatically.
“Tell me everything,” he demands.
I move toward the living room window, looking out over the dark street below as I recount the details. The consultation. The lock. The dead phone. The speaker.
He doesn’t interrupt.
When I finish, I hear a quiet exhale on the other end.
“This required internal access,” I add. “Only six or seven people have the high-level credentials needed,” I continue.
Another pause.
“Names?” he asks.
“Not yet.”
I hear a quiet rustle on his end, as if he’s pushing back from a desk or rising to his feet.
“Do you understand what this means?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“And?”
I rest my forehead briefly against the cool glass of the window, watching headlights pass below.
“It means they wanted to see if I would step back.”
“And will you?” he asks.
I don’t hesitate.
“No.”
“Good,” he says.
