Silra

I've always seen the world differently. Everyone else sees surfaces—furniture, walls, people—but I see angles, leverage points, weak spots. That penthouse suite? I mapped it in my head before Jeane even opened her mouth. Every escape route, every blind corner, every place someone could hide a weapon or a camera. And yes, I saw the opulence too—can't ignore that kind of power display—but it's just another layer to read. Same with these women. Hera all but glows with nervous energy, ready to combust at the slightest spark. Abby's practically vibrating with anxiety in that corner. Halie—always the rock, always trying to maintain order where there is none. And then there's Jeane. She thinks she's the center of this web, and maybe she is tonight, but webs have threads that can be cut. I'm not here for grand heroics or cheap thrills. I'm here because everything has an angle, every situation has a crack you can exploit if you look hard enough. And right now, my gut tells me the smart move isn't what Jeane wants—it's to figure out why we're really here before we get too deep in this game she's playing.