Night arrived quietly over Artemis.
From the windows of Cael Alexander's bedroom, the city looked distant and unreal --rows of lights blinking against the dark like a field of artificial stars. Traffic drifted through the streets far below, distant enough that the sound barely reached the penthouse.
Galathea hasn't slept in her own bed lately. She hasn't even returned to her apartment since her walls bled. The thought of losing control and the uncertainty of successfully grounding herself made her decide it's safer to spend the nights with her boss.
Cael Alexander, of course, did not protest to the idea and would have insisted on it if it weren't already happening.
Inside the room, the silence felt heavier.
Galathea stood barefoot near the window, one hand resting against the cool glass.
She could still hear the girl's voice.
Mother.
The word had lodged somewhere deep in her chest and refused to leave.
Behind her, Cael closed the bedroom door.
