The lift doors closed with a soft seal, muting the world beyond them.The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was almost like a decompression.
Riley leaned back against the wall, eyes closing for just a beat as she let out a slow breath.“That was ...a lot.”
Rafe huffed quietly.“Yeah.They don’t do subtle well.”
A faint, tired smile tugged at her mouth.
Dorian watched her reflection in the brushed steel wall.The way her gaze tracked invisible lines.The flex of her fingers, like she was reminding herself she was solid, present.Trauma response.Processing.Not fracturing.
Good.
The lift chimed at nine.
Their floor opened into the same space and quiet Riley had already seen earlier, familiar now, even if the calm still felt engineered rather than accidental.The penthouse-level residence wrapped around them, light from the city coming through the glass of the windows, sound dampened to a distant hush.It was a held breath finally released.
Riley paused just inside the threshold, more to reorient than react.Not overwhelmed this time—observant, cataloging what she’d missed the first time through.
Her gaze moved deliberately.The open living area first.Floor to ceiling windows, a mix of different seating options and the long table anchoring the space.Then the other direction, where the architecture subtly shifted—angles closing in, hallways set back, doors positioned with intention.A clear divide between shared space and private retreat.
Smart.
“You designed all of this,” she said quietly.
Rafe nodded.“Command stays upstairs, but our home is here.”
“Home,” she said, testing the word.
Something settled deep in Dorian’s chest.
Rafe flicked him a look—brief, sharp.Careful.
Dorian answered with a fractional nod.
They let her move at her own pace.She crossed the room again, fingers brushing the back of a chair, the edge of the counter, the glass of the window she’d stood at earlier.She didn’t rush.Didn’t fill the silence with questions.She was orienting, not stalling.
Finally, she turned back to them.“What happens next?”
No drama.No fear.Just clarity.
Rafe answered, but Dorian watched her face.“Command will start tracking Christian Bidois in earnest.They will look for patterns.Any funding he might have access to.Support structures that he leans into.For now, we’d like to keep you on-site here—if you’re willing.”
“I am.”The answer came without hesitation.
Dorian felt his wolf surge at that—approval, fierce and bright.
“There’s one more thing,” Rafe said.“You won’t be questioned again like that.What you told them stands as truth.If anything else comes up, it comes through us.”
Relief crossed her face before she could mask it.“Thank you.”
It wasn’t gratitude that tightened Dorian’s chest.
It was trust.
Rafe checked the time, then looked back to her.“You should get some sleep.We’ll take first watch.”
Riley frowned faintly.“I don’t need—”
“We know you don’t need it,” Dorian said gently.“Just humor us.”