Chapter 184: The Quiet West
The office felt smaller than usual with all four of them inside—stone walls, maps thumbtacked into jagged constellations of ink, the single narrow window filtered with winter light. Snow clung to Orion's shoulders; the office's hearth, if it ever had been a warm focal point, was only metaphor now—cold business in a colder world. The heavy oak door closed behind Mary with an authoritative thud that still echoed once like a knuckle on a drum.
Orion watched the smoke-gray line of the door for a beat before turning back to the others. Tobias had folded his hands in that deliberate way he did when counting coins in his head: knuckles tight, eyes bright with calculation. Mary's soot-smudged forearms rested across her belt, jaw set. Garrett lingered near the door with his hands pressed together, face that perpetual mix of worry and eagerness.
"We still haven't heard from SilverCreek," Orion said at last, flat and precise.
Silence followed after his words.
