The silence in the Kane penthouse after sunset was different now. It wasn't the quiet of exhaustion or peace. It was the heavy, watchful silence of a museum after hours, where every object feels poised and significant. Scarlett stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the city's new, orderly lights twinkle below. The streets were clean, the parks were being restored, and crime reports were virtually zero. It was everything they had once dreamed of. It felt like a beautiful, perfect prison.
Alexander came up behind her, his presence a solid warmth against the cool glass. He didn't put his arms around her. They both just stared out at Luna's masterpiece.
"She's in her room," Alexander said, his voice low. "Not sleeping. Working."
"On what?" Scarlett asked, though she dreaded the answer.
