“Sir,” I reply, my voice steady.
He studies me carefully, his eyes tracking every detail of my posture and expression.
“You have been busy,” he says.
“Routine movement,” I reply.
“Is that what you would call it?” he asks, his tone measured but edged.
I hold his gaze without answering, because there is no version of this conversation where I pretend ignorance anymore, and the silence between us confirms that he already knows exactly how far I have gone.
CHAPTER 20
HRASK
The corridor feels too open after she leaves, and the shift settles into the space in ways I cannot ignore even as I try to force myself back into control. The walls still press in with the same uneven angles, and the overhead lights still flicker in sharp intervals that carve the metal into alternating bands of shadow and glare, but something in the atmosphere changes the moment her footsteps fade. The echo of her movement lingers longer than it should, bouncing down the corridor in a rhythm I know well enough to follow without turning my head, and I find myself tracking it anyway before I consciously stop.
I remain where I am, my shoulder resting against the wall again, but the posture no longer feels casual. The metal presses cold through my uniform, grounding in a way that sharpens my awareness instead of easing it, and I drag a slow breath through air that tastes faintly of burned circuitry and dust.
“You don’t follow her,” I murmur under my breath, my jaw tightening as I say it out loud, as if hearing it reinforces the decision.
My gaze still drifts down the corridor she disappeared into, lingering just long enough to register the final angle where she moved out of sight before I force myself to look away. Theabsence settles heavier the longer I stand there, not because I expect her to come back, but because part of me recognizes exactly what walking away from that moment means.
“She made her choice,” I add quietly, shifting my weight as I push off the wall.
The movement feels deliberate, like breaking contact with something I should not have stayed connected to in the first place, and I straighten fully, rolling my shoulders once to force tension out of them. My boots shift against the floor, the sound sharper now without anything else to mask it, and I take a step forward before hesitation has time to root.
“And you made yours,” I continue under my breath, the words settling heavier than I expect.
The corridor does not respond, but the silence feels thicker, like it absorbs the statement instead of letting it pass.
I start moving.
Not toward her.
Back toward duty.
The transition into the upper levels unfolds gradually as I move, the corridors widening by degrees and the lighting stabilizing into something more consistent. The flicker fades into steady illumination. The air cools slightly as I ascend, losing that damp, suffocating weight, but the change only makes the tension under my skin more noticeable.
Two Coalition personnel cross my path at the next junction, their movements precise and their posture rigid in a way that signals heightened alertness rather than routine discipline. One of them glances at me, his eyes flicking over my face and stance in a quick, assessing sweep before snapping forward again, and the interaction lasts less than a second but carries more intent than it should.
“You seeing this?” I murmur under my breath, slowing just enough to observe without drawing attention.
The patrol flow has shifted.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
The spacing between units has tightened, and the timing between rotations feels compressed, like the system is closing its own gaps.
“Restrictions,” I say quietly, letting the word settle as I continue forward.
The command node ahead offers a clearer view of what has changed, and I step inside without hesitation, letting the door seal behind me with a soft hiss that isolates the room from the corridor noise. The interior glows with steady terminal light, casting a cool wash over the operators seated at their stations.
“Anything new?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral as I approach one of the stations.
The operator glances up, then back to his screen before answering.
