…Time to face reality.”The words didn’t sit right with him.They felt… premature.Like something he said just to avoid thinking too hard about what came next.Eli stood there for a moment longer than necessary, the chip resting between his fingers, turning it once, then again, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular as Elara’s laughter—faint, distant—still echoed somewhere at the back of his mind. It didn’t belong here. Not in this space. Not in this silence.His jaw tightened slightly.Then he moved.The laptop slid open with a soft click, the sound unusually loud in the quiet of the room. He didn’t rush. If anything, his movements were slower than usual, controlled in a way that almost looked deliberate, like if he took his time, whatever waited inside that chip would somehow change.It didn’t.The moment it connected, the screen flickered once, then steadied.Leonhart’s voice came first.“…you’re approaching this incorrectly, Eli…”Eli leaned back slightly, one hand resting agains

The silence settle slowly, heavy, lingering, refusing to be lifted.Eli stood there for a moment longer, staring at her like the answer might rearrange itself if he just… waited long enough.It didn’t.Something in him gave way instead.It wasn't loud. Nor was it visible. Just enough.He exhaled. Then turned.The movement felt slower than it should have, like his body was moving through something thicker than air as he crossed the space and dropped onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, grounding in a way nothing else had been able to.His hands came together loosely, elbows resting on his knees as his head dipped slightly.And for the first time since he walked into the room—He looked… tired.Not physically.Something deeper.Like the fight had been burning for too long without pause.And now—It was slipping.His breath left him in a quiet sigh.Then he leaned back slightly, turning his head just enough to look at her.His eyes—They weren’t cold anymore.

The flight back to New York felt longer than it was.Not necessarily because it was far or he had taken a different plane.But because silence stretched differently after bloodshed.The private jet cut through the clouds in near darkness, the low hum of the engines steady enough to blur into the background. Dim overhead lights cast faint shadows across the cabin, reflecting softly against the untouched glass of whiskey sitting near Eli’s hand.He hadn’t taken a sip.Outside the windows, nothing existed except endless black sky.Inside—Carlos sat across from him with a tablet balanced against one knee, several screens filled with surveillance reports, police intercepts, airport activity, digital sweeps.None of it mattered yet.No body.No confirmed transport route.No trace.Selene had vanished.Eli sat motionless near the window, one hand resting against his jaw while the other remained buried inside the pocket of his coat.Holding the tape.His thumb brushed against its edge slowly