A Bed, A Choice, A Moment
The night wind sighed against their flesh—cool, light, and scented with the whisper of secrets. It crept through the open window like a specter, caressing Leon and Nova as they stood shoulder to shoulder, frozen. Two silhouettes standing in silver moonlight, suspended in calm after turmoil.
Farther down, the final glimpse of Natasha's receding form dissolved into the forest. She was gone, her oppressive presence, once a storm cloud bearing down on their lungs, lifted. They were left with only quiet—and the gentle shake of leaves as the world breathed out.
Leon's golden eyes remained trained on the darkness beyond the garden fence, jaw set, stance taut. The adrenaline was wearing off, but his senses were still jacked. At his side, Nova finally exhaled a slow, measured breath—like the release of a tautly strung bowstring.
