The next morning, the "War without Shouting" evolved.
It didn't escalate.
It refined.
Every move was quieter. Sharper. Designed not to be seen—but to be absorbed.
Reid and I arrived at the Shard together, perfectly aligned, perfectly composed. To anyone watching, we were the same untouchable force we had always been.
But we didn't go to the executive lounge.
We didn't take our usual path.
We broke pattern.
And that, in itself, was bait.
We went straight to Reid's office.
I walked past Elena's desk without a glance—without even the courtesy of acknowledgment. I didn't react to the navy blazer she wore, cut in the exact silhouette of the one I had "lost" at the café.
Of course she had replaced it.
Of course she had.
But today—
I didn't give her the satisfaction of being seen.
Inside the office, Reid left the glass door slightly ajar.
Not enough to be obvious.
Just enough to carry sound.
Just enough to let curiosity breathe.
