Shark noticed the change before Nyra said a word.
She moved differently that night. Less rushed. More distant. Like someone already halfway gone.
They sat on the hood of his car in the Eastside, the city buzzing the way it always did when danger and routine made peace for a few hours. Smoke curled between them, thick and familiar.
"A week?" Shark said finally.
Nyra exhaled slowly. "Yeah."
He didn't raise his voice. Didn't curse. Didn't threaten. That was worse.
"A whole week," he repeated. "You don't disappear for a week."
Nyra leaned back on her palms, eyes on the sky. "I know."
Shark turned his head to look at her fully now. "You ever been gone longer than a day?"
She shook her head. "School and back. Work and back. Always."
"That's what I thought."
Silence settled, heavy but not hostile. Shark took another drag, eyes narrowed. He wasn't angry the way other men got angry. He was calculating. Measuring risk. Measuring her.
"You running from something?" he asked.
Nyra scoffed softly. "Nah. Running toward something."
"ValeTech," he said.
She nodded. "It's insane shit, Shark. I know that. Flying out. Business trips. Suits telling me how to dress."
He snorted. "Of course they are."
She laughed despite herself. "Man even told me no hoodies. No sneakers. Like my clothes gonna crash his servers."
Shark shook his head, amused despite the tension. "Rich boys always think control equals power."
Nyra passed him the cigarette. "This one especially. Thinks he invented discipline."
Shark took it, smirked. "Bet he never survived a night out here."
"Not a chance," she said. "He'd last ten minutes before begging for security."
They both laughed quietly, the sound low and dangerous.
Then Shark's expression shifted.
"But listen," he said. "A week is a long time. People talk. People notice absence."
Nyra met his eyes. "I'll be careful."
"You always say that."
"And I always come back."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded once. "You better."
She bumped her shoulder into his. "You trust me, don't you?"
Shark didn't answer right away. Then "I trust you to survive."
That was the highest praise he ever gave.
They smoked in silence after that, sharing the last drag like a ritual. Like grounding. Like a reminder of where she came from and who still watched her back.
As Nyra stood to leave, Shark spoke again.
"And Nyra?"
She paused.
"Don't let that suit forget who you are."
She smirked. "He's already trying."
"Good," Shark said. "Means he scared."
Nyra walked away with smoke in her lungs and tension in her chest.
A week away.
From the Eastside.
From Shark.
From the life that taught her how to stay alive.
And straight into Adrian Vale's world , where control wore expensive fabric and danger smiled politely.