Lachlan took the last three stairs in one stride and hit the living room with a smile that did not belong in winter. Heat from the fireplace washed over him.
The leather couches and the marble gleamed as if the world outside had never frozen.
"I got in contact with them." His breath ran fast, chest lifting like he had finished a sprint. "They're sending someone over now."
The room went still.
Even the television's black screen seemed to listen.
A low thump rolled through the penthouse, deep enough to tremble glass in the chandeliers. Not a crack. Not a creak. A distant, muffled boom that came from across the ice. A white plume lifted on the horizon where the leaning tower broke the tundra.
Sera did not ask how he had done it. She did not ask why. At this point in time, she didn't care what excuse he offered.
