The bathroom on the second floor of Onyx House was the one luxury the architects had actually gotten right. Deep soaking tub carved from dark stone, fed by pipes that somehow pulled geothermally heated water from the volcanic island beneath us. Steam rose from the surface in lazy curls that fogged the narrow window and turned the overhead light into a soft, diffused glow.
I lowered myself into the water one agonizing inch at a time.
My ribs screamed first. Then my shoulder. Then my lower back, which had apparently been holding a grudge since the Reyna fight and chose this exact moment to cash in every complaint it had been saving. The heat sank through skin and into muscle and bone, dissolving knots I hadn't known existed and loosening joints that had been grinding against each other for hours.
I sank until the water reached my collarbone and closed my eyes.
For exactly eleven seconds, the world was perfect.
