NOAH
Friday morning arrived with a crisp, professional bite that felt worlds away from the sun-drenched, morphine-hazed luxury of the Wolfe villa.
Standing outside the XUM Corporation headquarters, I took a deep breath of city exhaust and expensive espresso.
I was back.
And I was walking normally... mostly.
There was still a phantom ache in my lower back, a lingering reminder of the way Cassian had thoroughly dismantled me over the course of several nights, but the limp was gone.
I smoothed down the front of my jacket, the charcoal wool feeling like a second skin. It was a custom-tailored piece Cassian had ordered for me while I was still bedbound, the measurements taken by a silent, terrifyingly efficient man who had appeared at the villa on Wednesday.
The suit fit perfectly. It felt like money. It felt like his hands on me, even though he was nowhere near.
I pushed that thought down immediately. The pampered villa era was over. I was an employee again.
Probably.
