Grey's POV
The cold weight of the doorknob against my palm was the last sensation of normalcy I registered before the chaos of my mind consumed me. Seraphim had just stepped out of the room, her phone pressed to her ear. The caller ID read 'Natasha,' of course; it was Natasha, could it be anyone else? I thought, a source of irritation I hadn't realised was so potent until this very moment.
I watched the door click shut, leaving me standing alone in the centre of the room we shared but never occupied. The silence rushed in, heavier than the moment before, and I finally let the facade slip. My shoulders slumped, and I ran a trembling hand through my hair, undoing the order I insisted upon.
We were supposed to be focusing on the internal spy, we had identified a voice, we only had to find out whose voice it was, yet, as soon as Seraphim's attention diverted, my own thoughts spiralled inward, consumed not by the looming political disaster, but by the woman who had just left the room.
