Liam and Lana went back to the penthouse and for once they did not rush out again.
Two full days passed.
They stayed inside, curtains open, lights low, the city stretching endlessly beneath the glass walls. Even from that height they could feel it. Something was off. Not loud. Not obvious. Just wrong in a quiet unsettling way.
The news played in the background most of the time. Same anchors. Same worried expressions. Same half answers.
There had been fewer attacks.
People were confused but relieved. Streets were still tense but not bleeding the way they had been days earlier. No mass disappearances. No burned out buildings. No bodies found drained and hollow.
Nobody knew why.
Liam stood by the window with his hands in his pockets, staring down at the city like he was trying to read its pulse through concrete and glass.
After a long moment he spoke.
"But I don't get it."
Lana looked up from the couch.
"Get what."
