I sat in my office, staring at the wall.
The room was too big. Too empty. I'd known that since we moved into this penthouse, but I'd never had the time to do anything about it. My desk sat in the center like an island in an ocean of unused space. No bookshelves that were full of books. No decorations to lighten the mood. No real personal touches. Just white walls, an expensive desk with some papers, a comfortable chair, and far too much emptiness.
For a moment—just a moment—I was bored.
Actually, genuinely bored.
It was such a strange feeling that I almost didn't recognize it at first. The past three years had been nonstop action. Getting my Job Title. Solving murders. Travelling to Mars. Fighting a legal battle. Building the coalition. Navigating political minefields. Fighting against the World President's network. Brazil. The UN meeting. Gang negotiations. Ecological crises. Brain surgery.
