Nora Vale

Nora Vale found him at a coffee shop that sold eight-dollar cold brew to people who used the word ecosystem without irony. Ethan had chosen the place because it was crowded, public, and two subway stops from his apartment. He had also chosen it because the digest said she would arrive at 11:38, and at 11:37 he wanted the childish satisfaction of already knowing where the door was. She entered exactly on time. Thirty-two, maybe thirty-three. Black coat, dark hair cut at her shoulders, eyes that moved through the room like a search algorithm. She was not beautiful in the soft way Maya had been. Nora was sharp, composed, and alert, with the professional stillness of someone who made powerful men regret casual lies. She spotted him immediately.