Kronin exhales slowly, pushing off the column and straightening, the blade still loose in his grip. The movement shifts the balance of the space, pulls the conversation out of casual and into something tighter, more controlled.
“You’re digging where you shouldn’t,” he says.
“Then give me a reason to stop,” I reply.
“That’s not how this works.”
“It is if you don’t want me to keep going.”
He studies me, the weight of his gaze settling heavier now, measuring, calculating.
“You don’t know what you’re stepping into,” he says.
“Then explain it,” I counter.
“That’s not my job.”
“No,” I agree, letting my voice drop slightly. “But it is your problem if I keep pushing.”
That lands.
Not enough to make him react outright, but enough to shift something behind his eyes.
“You’re getting bold,” he says.
“You’re getting evasive,” I reply.
Silence stretches between us, filled only by the faint drip of something leaking deeper in the system.
“Tury got flagged,” I say, breaking it. “Unauthorized contact. Near the border.”
Kronin’s grip tightens just enough around the blade to register.
“Yeah,” he says. “He did.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because he stepped outside protocol.”
“That’s the report,” I say. “I’m asking what actually happened.”
“You’re not going to like the answer,” he says.
“Try me.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, then exhales slowly.
“He got curious,” Kronin says. “Started asking questions that didn’t have safe answers. Started talking to people he shouldn’t have been talking to.”
“Like who?” I press.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replies. “What matters is he didn’t stop.”
The words settle heavier than I expect.
“Sounds familiar,” I say.
His eyes flick to mine, sharper now, something colder sliding into place.
