The car glides to a halt, the engine dying with a soft hum that seems to echo in the sudden stillness.
For a long moment, I don't move.
I sit in the backseat, my hands resting loosely on my knees, my gaze fixed on the building beyond the tinted glass. It's unremarkable. Unassuming. Nothing like the towering monuments of steel and glass that bear the Kael name.
Lovebeauty.
The letters are modest, almost humble, mounted above a doorway that has seen better days. The paint along the sign has faded at the edges, worn down by weather and time. The windows reflect the afternoon sunlight with a dull, unpolished gleam—no mirrored glass, no hidden observation rooms, no silent guards watching from unseen corners.
So this is where he ran.
His stable little job. His fresh start.
I let the thought settle in my chest, cold and still, like a stone dropped into deep water.
I don't feel anger. I don't feel sadness. I don't feel much of anything except a quiet, humming resolve.
