Erik sensed metal.

Movement.

Magnetic fields shifting in microscopic degrees.

What he did not sense—

Was her.

The corridor was quiet. Too quiet. Steel reinforcement in the walls hummed faintly under his awareness as he reviewed satellite projections in his mind.

A shadow peeled away from the corner.

He didn’t hear footsteps.

Didn’t feel displaced air.

She was simply—

There.

“—”

He stopped mid-step.

For half a second—just half—every loose screw in the hallway ripped free from their sockets and hovered defensively around him.

The shadows beside him shifted again, as if amused.

Erik turned slowly.

“…I had forgotten,” he said coolly, though his pulse had spiked in a way he would never publicly admit, “that you insist on dramatics.”

She stepped fully into the dim light, expression entirely too pleased with herself.

The screws clattered back into place with precise irritation.

“You move like a rumor,” he muttered, adjusting his gloves. “Inconvenient. Unnecessary.”

A beat.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Effective.”

He resumed walking, though his awareness now extended deliberately into every pocket of darkness around them.

“Next time,” he added evenly, “announce yourself.”

A faint flicker of shadow danced at the edge of his vision again.

He did not jump this time.

“I am not a man easily startled,” he said, straightening his coat with dignity.

The faintest pause.

“…Do not make this a habit.”

Because Erik Lensherr commanded iron, nations, and storms of steel.

But a woman who could materialize from darkness without warning?

That required recalibration.