Chapter 30 · Closed at Midnight

The footsteps stopped.

Aiden counted fifteen. Maybe twenty. Hard to tell when they all moved like that—synchronized, no breath, just the scrape of boots on tile.

Leah stood next to him behind the counter. Her tracker was gone. Dust on her wrist where it used to sit. She hadn't said a word since the first erasers backed out. Just stared at the door like she was waiting for it to explode.

"They're not coming in," Vera said. She floated near the front window, one hand pressed to the glass. "Not yet."

"Why not?" Leah's voice came out flat.

Vera glanced back. "Because we're still here."

The café was packed. Ghosts lined the walls, filled the booths, crowded the aisle between tables. Every soul Aiden had pulled back from the edge over three centuries. Some he recognized. Most he didn't. They'd shown up after Vera made the call—whatever network dead people used, it worked fast.

Ink perched on the espresso machine, feathers puffed up. "This is insane. You know that, right? We're trapped in a coffee shop with a bunch of ghosts and the Council's kill squad outside."

"Yep." Aiden grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter. Old habit.