I pulled Naomi down the beach toward the waterline where the black sand turned wet and cool. The gold light hit everything at the perfect angle because I'd told the Sanctum to make it that way, and the Sanctum at Gold rank didn't half-ass requests. Each footprint we left filled with water that caught the sunset and turned copper before the next wave erased it.
Naomi's fingers were laced through mine. Her grip had changed since the gate. Six weeks ago she'd held my hand like she was borrowing something that didn't belong to her. Now she held it like she'd bought the receipt and filed the warranty.
