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Nineteen

I woke up to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The bed was empty, a chill settling in the space where Arthur had been. A pang of worry shot through me as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded to the balcony.

There he was, leaning against the railing, his gaze fixed on the city skyline. The morning sun cast long shadows on his face, highlighting the lines of fatigue etched into his skin.

"Morning," I said softly, stepping onto the balcony.

He turned to face me, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and determination. "Morning," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

I reached out and took his hand. "What's wrong?"

He sighed, his grip tightening around mine. "There was an incident at the office," he said, his voice low.

A wave of dread washed over me. "What happened?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Gunmen," he said, his jaw clenched. "They stormed the building, but security managed to repel them."

My heart pounded in my chest. "Is everyone okay?"

He
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