The Weight He Chose
"You changed," she said, studying him openly now.
"How?"
He didn't ask defensively. Just honestly.
"Sharper," she replied.
Her eyes traced the angle of his jaw, the way his expression no longer softened as easily as it once did.
Cynthia's voice followed, warm but perceptive. "Heavier."
That word lingered.
Leon didn't deny it.
"The city demands it," he said.
His gaze shifted forward, toward the distant towers rising against the evening light. The wind carried the smell of stone and distant smoke.
Nova, walking just behind, spoke calmly. Her tone was level, but her attention was not. "And the borders?"
Leon didn't need to think. He had already been thinking.
"Still tense," Leon answered without hesitation. "North is active. Skyfall increases drills. West and south remain unstable because of Gary and Aurelian."
There was a brief silence after he spoke—not empty, but weighted.
Natasha folded her arms lightly. "So the peace is thin."
"Yes."
