Sloane glances at Skylar, then me. "That may be difficult for some people."
Skylar doesn't look up from the ledger. "I can still hear you."
"I was counting on it."
The tension breaks enough for breath to move through the room again. Work resumes, but it's different now, more focused than it was before.
Caldwell stays another hour before taking a secure copy of what Baxter has cleared for transfer. When he stands, the room doesn't pause the way it did when he arrived. He belongs to the work now, at least enough for this. Sloane walks him to the secure door, but Caldwell stops near me first.
"Rourke."
"Kade," I say.
His mouth twitches. "Kade, then. I misread the room when I walked in."
"You were careful."
"I was territorial."
"So was I."
That gets a low laugh from him. His eyes move to Skylar, who's arguing with Dana over a timestamp, then back to me. "He never stayed anywhere long."
"I know."
"He looks like he might this time."
The relief that moves through me is quiet enough to keep. "I sure hope so.”
Caldwell holds my gaze, then nods. "Good."
Emrys
The morning shift at Ardor has teeth today. Customers still come in damp from the gray weather, asking for coffee, rolls, and the lemon loaf Clarence claims has been shrinking since 1998. Priya still moves behind the counter like she's running a small country with an oven attached. The bell over the door still rings too loudly every time someone comes in, and I still manage not to drop anything when it does, which feels like a victory I'm not going to announce because Priya will make a face about my standards.
But the edges are wrong. I feel them in the pause before I turn toward the windows. In the half-second it takes me to recognize a hood, a dark coat, a man standing too still near the curb before he moves on and becomes someone ordinary. I feel them in the way Priya keeps finding reasons to pass me, brushing flour off the counter beside my elbow even though there's barely any there, refilling the sugar canister herself instead of letting me do it.
She isn't crowding me. She knows better. She's just keeping herself close enough to catch the sound if I crack.
I finish shaping the last tray of honey rolls and slide them onto the rack. My hands are steady. That matters too. The dough did what it was supposed to do today, smooth and soft under my palms, no tearing, no sticking, no flour spilling over the counter and turning into something I have to survive. I wipe down my station and breathe through the warm smell of yeast, honey, and cardamom until my chest starts to loosen.
Priya appears at my side with a mug. "Drink."
I look at it. "Is this an order or a suggestion wearing boots?"
"It's tea. Don't make it philosophical."
"I work with bread. Everything's philosophical if you wait long enough."
She gives me the mug and studies my face while pretending she's not studying my face. "You need a minute?"
I glance toward the back door before I can stop myself. The alley isn't where I want to be. It's also the closest place with air that doesn't smell like sugar and ovens and everyone's eyes on me.
"Maybe one minute," I say.
Priya's mouth tightens, but she nods. "Take Aaron."
Aaron is Sloane's watcher, though nobody calls him that out loud in front of customers. He's been sitting at the small back table for two hours with a newspaper he hasn't turned a page ofand a coffee he's barely touched. Kade and Sloane had chosen someone else but switched them out for the quiet Beta, the kind of person most people forget the second they look away.
