PAIGE
The car was a silent, temperature-controlled bubble, a world away from the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. Sunlight, bright and bold for a noon in late fall, streamed through the tinted windows, painting warm stripes across the butter-soft leather seats.
I was curled in my corner, my phone pressed to my ear, listening to the one familiar sound that could still make me feel normal.
"So, let me get this straight," Leon's voice came through, his humor intact but laced with a concern I knew all too well. "You went to war with a billionaire, declared a truce, and then just… never came home? I was two seconds away from filing a missing person's report, P. I had a whole speech prepared for the cops about your weird obsession with organizing my spice rack."
A real, genuine laugh bubbled out of me. It felt foreign and wonderful. "Consider the spice rack safe. For now."
"Okay, but seriously. Are you okay? The radio silence was… loud."
