I waited for Nolan to finish while I ordered room service — something warm and heavy, because nothing says "we survived a bloodbath" like drowning your nerves in butter and gravy. The bellman left a tray with steaming dumplings and a ridiculous amount of sauce, and the room smelled like slightly better decisions.
When Nolan finally padded out of the bathroom, wrapped in a hotel bathrobe, I folded my arms and went straight to business. "You're staying here until tomorrow. The trial is on Sunday." I said it plain. "Don't draw attention to yourself in public. Arkus will know the moment anything moves; he'll try to bury every piece of evidence before the court even breathes."
He blinked slowly, relief and something like gratitude softening the hard lines in his face. "Thank you, Remillia. I won't forget this favor. I'll pay you back soon." His voice was gravelly but sincere.
