The footsteps

FLASHBACK

The library was filled with warm light, afternoon sun streaming through high windows onto the floor in luxurious stripes. Dust motes glimmered drowsily through the air, broken only by the occasional movement of a page turn or repositioning of limbs on the groaning leather chairs.

Adrian set hunched over a book, foreheads furrowed in intensity, fingers tapping absentmindedly on the slippery wooden table. The smell of paper and ink lingered in the air, the familiar fragrance of learning and reassurance.

His charcoal-colored sweater hung loosely across the corded muscles of his back, his shirt cuffs pushed up as usual, exposing the crests of veins and the long, lean fingers of a man too accustomed to exercising control in all walks of life.