Theron entered the foyer, composed as ever, even after a day that had tested the limits of his patience. The smart-systems recognized his biometric signature immediately, the recessed amber lights huming to life in a soft, welcoming glow that chased the shadows into the corners.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it onto a low-slung leather bench. His mind was still lingering on the curb outside Sierra's apartment, the way her hand had felt in his, small and trembling yet possessed of a hidden, stubborn strength. It was getting harder and harder to tell where the deal ended and his own instincts began. He was the Shield. Protecting was in his blood. But the pull to protect Sierra didn't feel like an obligation. It felt urgent. Personal.
He walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, intending to pour himself a glass of aged amber liquid and stare at the city until the static in his head finally quieted.
Suddenly, the air in the room shifted.
