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Chapter 15: Angelic Entities
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Chapter 17: Not An Apocalypse Shifts
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... fingers moving on instinct. Smooth, clean, precise. The kind of motion he only makes when he knows things are about to get dirty.
Then he walked to the minibar, picked the most overpriced champagne bottle from the ice bucket, popped the cork with a lazy flick of his thumb, and poured himself a glass.
He didn’t drink it immediately.
He walked to the balcony first, barefoot.
City lights sprawled like spilled jewels across the skyline. Warm. Mortal. Unaware.
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