Night had settled over Artemis like a held breath.
The main gallery floor stood empty, the polished marble reflecting rows of dim security lights that cast long shadows across silent paintings. Motion sensors blinked faint green along the walls, and climate units hummed softly behind hidden panels.
Normally the quiet felt reverent.
Tonight it felt watched.
Galathea Brooks walked beside Cael Alexander through the central corridor, her footsteps echoing more sharply than usual.
The rain had stopped by the time they returned from the storage facility, but the damp chill still clung to her clothes. Her hair was slightly damp at the edges, and exhaustion pulled at her muscles.
Still, her mind refused to slow down.
The destroyed painting, the empty frame, someone arriving before them, someone who knew where to cut.
She glanced sideways at Cael. "You're sure the security system logs everything?"
"Yes." Cael answered.
"No blind spots?" Galathea pried.
