The silence after the Patron's retreat felt unnatural. Not peaceful. Not safe. It was the kind of silence that pressed against the walls, heavy and waiting, like a predator shifting just out of sight.
Aria lay against Luca's chest, her breathing slow and unsteady. The golden light from the oath had dimmed, settling beneath her skin like warm embers. Every rise and fall of her breath brushed heat across his collarbone.
She was exhausted.
He was terrified of the exhaustion.
Rosetta wiped her face with a shaking hand. Vescari sank into the nearest chair, his body sagging with the weight of knowledge older than all of them. Nico remained at the door, gun raised, watching the hall for movement that did not come.
No one spoke.
The quiet was oppressive enough that Aria finally whispered, "Why does it feel like he is still here?"
Vescari raised his head slowly. "Because he is."
Luca's grip tightened around her. "Explain."
