By the time they brought Finch back through Grimridge's north gate, the first snow had already given up pretending to be gentle.
It still wasn't a true storm. The flakes came slantwise now, thin and fast, catching in hair and lashes, whitening the packed road just enough to make the earth beneath look darker. The air had changed more than the ground had. It carried that edge winter only got when it was no longer asking permission to arrive.
Finch walked between two guards with her hands bound and her face bloodless beneath the cold. She no longer looked like a clever clerk slipping tools into routes that didn't belong to her. She looked like what she was, a hand caught reaching too close. Jace stayed at her shoulder with the kind of quiet attention that made even stubborn wolves rethink sudden movements. Mara kept close to Sable. Cassian did not leave Sable's side at all.
That part no longer surprised anyone.
