My jaw tightens, and I drag myself back to the present.
“We’re going to meet it head-on,” I finish.
The door opens, and every head in the kitchen turns. Cason steps into view like he belongs here—he sure as fuck does now—with Felix held in one arm and that same defiant energy wrapped around him like armor. I know him well enough to know that even though everything he learned today most likely affected him in some way, he won’t let it show. Not here.
Even still, for a moment, the room softens, and something in my chest loosens.
“You missed the inspiring speech,” Sebastian says.
“Tragic,” Cason shoots back as he walks into the kitchen and lowers Felix to the floor, who immediately bolts out of sight. “Was there a dramatic monologue? Hero or villain vibes? Because sometimes I can never really tell with him.”
“Don’t push it,” I mutter. “Sit down.”
He grins, but I can still see it, the edge under it. The aftermath of all those awful revelations still clinging to him.
I take a few questions, then the meeting breaks slowly. The feeds on the laptop cut off one by one, and people peel away in pairs, voices low, tension high. Sebastian and Mia both linger. Cason is opening a can of cat food in the hopes of luring Felix back out.
I’m about to speak when Sebastian’s laptop makes a noise,one I don’t think I’ve ever heard it make before. Every muscle in my body goes taut as Sebastian slides his computer to him, his hands flying over the device before I can say anything. The light of the screen flickers across his face.
“Oh, fuck,” Cason whispers despite his back facing the screen, his spine straightening.
Then Sebastian spins the laptop back toward me, and…
Malcolm.
He’s there on the screen, sitting cozy in his office chair with that wall of glass behind him. The others come to stand around me, and the moment Cason sees his uncle, he takes a step forward like he plans to jump straight through the computer.
“You son of a—”
I grab onto his arm and haul him back beside me, but I’m too late to stop a spark from skipping across the keyboard of the laptop, jumping into it through the seams. On the screen, what I suspect is that same spark appears in front of Malcolm’s face for a fraction of a second before fizzing out. Malcolm just chuckles.
“Well,” he says smoothly, like he’s hosting a fucking morning show. “I see I have your attention.”
No one else speaks. My hands curl into fists at my sides.
“I thought it only fair,” he continues, “to extend an invitation since we’re all on the same side now. Tomorrow evening, the Institute will be conducting a demonstration. A controlled Pulse Zero Event. A…showcase, if you will.”
My stomach drops, and I feel Cason go still next to me.
“I’m sure it’ll be very enlightening.” Malcolm’s smile is thin as he stares directly into the camera. “Attendance is optional. Though I suspect your conscience may feel otherwise.”
The feed cuts out. Just like that. And a heavy silence slams back into the room.
After several seconds, Sebastian lets out a low whistle. “That was not subtle.”
“No,” I agree.
It was not. Because it’s bait, a trap. An invitation and a threat.
My gaze finds Cason, and he’s already looking at me. We don’t need to say it, the thing neither one of us is speaking out loud. The others don’t get it, not really. They heardemonstration, and they think intimidation and a show of power, a quick and clean death to make a point.
But that’s not what this is.
One death is one thing. Two? Two is something else entirely.
If Malcolm is doing this again, this time with an audience, then he’s finally admitting to all of us what it really takes, what it is he’s been doing all along. If the demonstration is real, if he’s putting someone through it, then…
We don’t have a choice.
