I nod slowly.
“And it worked,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “It did.”
The silence that follows feels heavier than before.
“You’re in this now,” Paarson says. “You keep pushing, you won’t get a warning.”
“He didn’t get one,” I reply.
Paarson doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t need to.
I step back, giving him just enough space to breathe again.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says.
“Probably,” I reply.
“Then stop.”
“No.”
He shakes his head, backing away.
“Then don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says.
I don’t respond.
I just watch him go.
Because he gave me enough.
—
The neutral zone feels different when I return, the air heavier and more oppressive, as if the corridors themselves are holding onto what I just learned. The hum of the systems presses harder against my ears, and every shadow seems deeper, more deliberate.
Jolie is already there when I arrive, standing near the junction with her posture set and her attention snapping to me the moment I step into view. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t waste time with anything unnecessary.
“You found something,” she says.
I close the distance between us before answering, letting the space tighten into something more controlled.
“I found a problem,” I reply.
Her expression sharpens immediately, and she steps closer without hesitation.
“Explain.”
“Tury wasn’t just asking questions,” I say. “He was mapping routes—supply movement, transfer points, timing gaps.”
“That matches what I found,” she says.
“It gets worse,” I add.
“How?”
