The office was quiet.
Lyon preferred it that way.
The building was still half-empty, the floors echoing faintly with the distant hum of construction and the occasional murmur of technicians installing equipment. His company would officially open in two months, but he had arrived early.
Preparation had always been his habit. He had always survived on control.
He stood beside the large window overlooking the city, the lights beginning to glow as evening settled over the streets below.
In his hands was the only thing in the room that didn't belong to the future.
A photograph.
The frame was old. The silver edges slightly worn from years of being handled too often.
Three people smiled from inside it.
His father, his mother and a small six-year-old version of himself sitting between them on the living room floor, clutching a wooden wolf toy.
Lyon's thumb brushed the glass.
He could still remember that day. He could remember everything.
