Lilith stood up.
She picked up her bag and turned toward the door, but something made her pause. Her eyes drifted toward the corner of the room, where a large canvas stood resting against the wall. She walked over, slowly, her footsteps quiet against the polished wooden floor. The painting was half-finished—brush strokes frozen mid-motion, as if the artist had walked away and never returned.
Lilith stared at it for a long time, her expression unreadable.
After a moment she walked to the door. She didn't look back this time.
The door clicked shut behind her, and the apartment fell quiet once more.
***
Alexander's jaw clenched tight as the tension in his chest built like a storm. His fingers gripped the edge of the seat, knuckles turning white. The car engine hummed softly in the background, but it only seemed to fuel his frustration.
"Where is Lilith?" His voice was low, dangerously calm, but it carried a intensity that made even the driver in front stiffen.
