The executive-level private recovery suite hidden within the labyrinthine internal architecture of Artemis Tower remained dim except for softened wall lighting and the muted pulse of monitoring equipment hidden discreetly behind observation panels. Rainwater slid slowly down the narrow reinforced windows overlooking the city while low instrumental music drifted faintly through recessed speakers near the ceiling.
Cael Alexander slept lightly against the elevated recovery bed wearing charcoal silk pajamas instead of the recovery gown for the first time in days. The difference should not have mattered as much as it did.
But it did.
The pajamas looked familiar.
Human.
Like something chosen instead of assigned.
