“I had to confirm,” I reply, closing the distance without slowing.
Her arms drop immediately, her stance shifting forward as if she’s already bracing for impact.
“And?” she presses.
I don’t answer right away. I stop just inside her space, close enough to force the conversation into something contained, something that doesn’t spill beyond us.
“And you’re not going to like it,” I say.
“Try me.”
I hold her gaze, letting the weight of it settle before I speak.
“This isn’t just smuggling,” I say. “It’s controlled breaches. Timed, repeated, structured across both sides.”
Her eyes sharpen, something fierce flashing through them.
“That confirms it,” she says immediately, stepping closer. “We expose it.”
I shake my head before she finishes the sentence.
“No.”
Her expression snaps tighter.
“No?” she repeats, her voice rising just enough that she reins it back in.
“No,” I say again, more firmly, lifting a hand slightly as if I can physically slow her momentum. “You don’t see the full picture yet.”
“Then show me,” she snaps, her hand cutting sharply through the air as she gestures toward me.
“It’s not just movement,” I say, my voice dropping as I lean in slightly. “It’s escalation cycles. They’re creating tension, pulling it back, then pushing it again. Controlled pressure.”
Her breathing changes, subtle but noticeable, her focus narrowing as she processes it.
“That’s… bigger,” she says, quieter now.
“Yeah,” I reply. “A lot bigger.”
Her expression hardens again almost immediately.
“All the more reason to expose it,” she says.
I let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through my hair before letting it fall.
“Jolie,” I say, my voice tightening as I step closer, “you don’t expose something like this without knowing what it’s going to trigger.”
“And you don’t sit on it while people disappear,” she fires back, stepping into my space again, her shoulders squared.
“You push this wrong,” I say, my voice lower now but edged, “and you don’t stop it—you accelerate it.”
Her lips part slightly, then press together.
“That’s not how truth works,” she says.
“That’s exactly how systems react when you destabilize them,” I counter.
She lets out a short, sharp breath that sounds more like frustration than anything else, her hand dragging through her hair before she drops it again.
