The evening settled over the parking lot in San Diego with a false calm, the fading light stretching long shadows between rows of silent vehicles, and Ella walked beside Rhea with a measured pace, her posture composed though something beneath her skin refused to quiet.
The air carried the faint scent of asphalt and cooling metal, ordinary in every sense, yet her shoulders remained subtly tense, her breath steady but not relaxed, as if her body anticipated what her mind had not yet seen.
Rhea's gaze moved constantly, sharp and watchful, her steps quiet but deliberate, her presence close enough to shield without suffocating, though even she felt the shift that crept into the space.
The moment held, thin and fragile, like glass stretched to breaking, and the silence around them seemed to deepen unnaturally.
"…you feel that," Rhea muttered.
Her voice was low.
