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She nodded. “Okay.”

No argument.

No trust implied.

Just choice.

Mine.

I activated the channel.

The terminal screen remained black for another two seconds.

Then a narrow line appeared across the center.

Authentication sequence.

Old.

Correct.

Not improvised.

Not spoofed.

I entered the response.

A voice came through.

No image.

No identifier.

It did not need one.

“Ghost.”

My body recognized the voice before my mind allowed the name.

Handler.

Not the same male who had originally transferred Talia’s mission packet to me.

Higher.

Older.

Someone I had spoken to perhaps six times in eight years.

A voice reserved for failed extractions, compromised assets, and missions that required no permanent record.

I had never known his actual name.

That had never bothered me before.

Now it did.

“You initiated direct contact,” I said.