DAX'S POV
Friday morning.
He woke before five, as he always did. The run at four-thirty, back by five-thirty. The routine had been his since his early twenties, since the specific discipline of those years when running at predawn was the only hour that belonged entirely to him. The pack started at six. The enterprise at seven. The four-thirty run was his.
He came back to the penthouse at five-forty.
Remi was awake.
This was new — she was typically asleep until seven, the pregnancy having adjusted her schedule in the direction of more rest rather than less, which Okafor had confirmed was appropriate and which Remi had accepted with the resigned pragmatism of someone who had read the relevant literature and understood that fighting it was not a strategically sound position.
She was at
