POV: Aurora
I thought the worst silence of the day would be in the Council chamber.
I was wrong.
The worst is this: the elevator in Dante's building, going up floor by floor with the echo of everything that could go wrong pounding in my bones.
Dante says nothing. He doesn't need to. His hand rests on the metal bar, a few inches from mine. I feel the heat, the electricity, the promise.
The elevator stops. Top floor.
The doors open to a silent hallway and a single black door at the end. Dante swipes his card, the reader beeps softly, and we enter.
His apartment is not what I expected. More books than furniture.
"You can leave your things wherever you want," he says. "No one else is coming."
I think of all the nights this place was silent. I leave my jacket on the sofa. My hands are shaking.
"I can't stop hearing 'detention measures' in my head," I confess. "They said it once, but I've been repeating it all day."
Dante leans on the kitchen counter.
