Morning light cuts through the rain-streaked glass, laying pale gold across the bed. Dallas and Elena wake tangled in the hush, with steam still fading over the hot tub and Murderbone already up, listening at the door.
A sharp knock lands on the suite door. Not frantic, just firm. Murderbone’s head lifts, hackles bristling a little as he pads closer to the threshold.
Elena pulls the covers tighter and gives Dallas a tired, knowing look. The world has started knocking again, but for one more breath, nobody answers it.
Dallas Fontaine
The knock is deliberate, not panicked.
Elena Vane
Let them wait a minute.
She eases herself up against the pillows, rainlight on her face, calm but not careless. Murderbone settles by the door like a dark guard post, his gaze fixed on the hallway.
Elena Vane
We can be ordinary for sixty seconds, Fontaine. Try not to ruin it.
The suite stays warm, quiet, and almost safe. Outside, someone waits. Inside, the morning holds still.