Three days.
It had been seventy-two hours since the world had roared my name, and in the vacuum of my cell, the memory was already beginning to feel like a dream, vivid yet untouchable.
The silence of protective custody was a skilled torturer, replacing the crowd's adrenaline with a low, incessant hum of dread.
I clung to the phantom vibration in my bones, the echo of the chant, and to the secret I carried—Leo's note about the "scorched earth." We had set a fire in the heart of Selene's empire, and now I waited, every nerve ending raw, for the smoke to reach me.
When the guard came, his steps were too sharp, his posture too rigid. This was not a routine check.
"Gray.On your feet. You have a video conference with your legal counsel. Immediately."
