NOAH
Ten days later, the hospital lobby was a hive of chaotic motion, reorganizing itself the way it always did when a person of immense status moved through the world.
Cassian walked out of the sliding glass doors wearing simple dark trousers and a plain gray t-shirt.
On anyone else, the outfit would have been entirely unremarkable, but Cassian had a way of carrying himself that made it impossible to look away.
His presence announced itself long before he ever uttered a word, drawing the eyes of every nurse and visitor in the vicinity.
The security detail was already lined up along the curb, the black sedans idling smoothly.
I followed a step behind him, carrying absolutely nothing because two men in dark suits had materialized the second we left the floor to take our bags.
It was the strange, surreal reality of being adjacent to massive wealth, doors simply opened, luggage vanished, and nobody ever made you wait.
