The city pulsed with life as Aurora stepped out of the sleek black car, the lights of downtown casting a golden glow against the towering glass skyscrapers. The cool night air carried the distant hum of traffic, the occasional honk of a car horn breaking the rhythm of her thoughts.
She straightened the fitted black blazer she wore over her white blouse and smoothed her slacks. It had been years since she'd lived like a civilian—since she'd dressed like this, walked city streets without keeping to the shadows. She had abandoned her past, her code name, the mercenary life, yet an unease still lingered beneath her skin, like a phantom itch she could never quite reach.
She was Aurora now. Not Aura. Not the Ghost. Just Aurora.
Logan had arranged a private meeting at his penthouse, insisting it was important. Aurora wasn't sure what to expect, but she had agreed. She owed him that much.
