The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.
Samantha stepped into her penthouse, the city lights spilling like liquid gold through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She expected silence. She expected the usual stillness that greeted her after long nights of calculating, planning, and burying every piece of emotion that threatened to rise.
She did not expect a figure slumped against her living-room wall.
Samantha froze.
A weak whisper cut through the dimness.
"Miss… Samantha…"
Her heart stopped.
"Lynn?"
The lights flicked on automatically, revealing Lynn—dirty, pale, trembling so violently she could barely stay conscious. Her clothes were torn, her face bruised, and her eyes—her once-bright, loyal eyes—were filled with terror.
Samantha rushed to her, dropping to her knees.
"Lynn? Lynn—look at me. How did you get here?" Her voice cracked despite all her control.
Lynn grabbed her wrist with shaking fingers.
