Lyon was a city of two rivers and hidden passageways, a place of layers, chosen for its neutrality. It held no ghosts for either of them. Lara arrived by train from Lausanne, Alex from Geneva. They met on the plaza outside the Gare de la Part-Dieu, a practical, modern location that felt fitting for the start of something so deliberately new.

He was already there, leaning against a railing, watching the crowd. He saw her first, and the smile that touched his lips was not the polished, corporate one of old, nor the devastated, raw expression from the Geneva café. It was a quiet, genuine curve of relief and anticipation. He looked, Lara thought with a jolt, nervous.