No one watched him like a victor now. They watched him like a man walking away from a building moments before it collapsed.

Roman guided Harper toward the exit. Sarah caught Harper’s eye and mouthed, Call me. Harper gave the smallest nod.

They crossed the lobby in silence. Outside, October wind rushed between the buildings and raised goose bumps along Harper’s bare arms. A black armored sedan waited at the curb.

Roman removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. The fabric held the scent of cedar and smoke.

“You can stop pretending now,” he said.

Harper looked up at him. “Pretending what?”