VIKTOR
The walk back to the penthouse was quieter than the walk to the stall, but the silence had changed. It wasn't the Arctic void from the morning. This was a living, breathing quiet, filled with the ghost of shared smoke and the absurd, warm secret of a Persian cat named Elizabeth. Kairen walked beside me, not ahead, still swimming in my jacket. I could feel the weight of his occasional glances, but I kept my eyes on the path ahead, a soldier on a different kind of patrol.
We reached the building, the lobby's oppressive warmth hitting us like a wall. In the elevator, he shrugged off the jacket and handed it back to me. Our fingers didn't brush. He was careful about that.
"Thanks," he muttered, not looking at me, studying the ascending floor numbers as if they held the secrets of the universe.
"Don't mention it."
