“Bioweapon drop,” I say.
They all freeze.
I pull up the file on my pad. Let them see it for themselves.
The virus specs. The Festival blueprints. The dispersal vectors.
When I speak, my voice is iron. “They’re planning to cleanse the crowd during sunrise. Kill any non-human presence. Quiet. Precise. Then blame it on food poisoning or tech sabotage. You know the game.”
“Dennis Montana,” Sahmi says slowly. “The human senator?”
I nod once.
“You sure?”
“Dead sure.”
Duran folds his arms. “So what, you’re gonna stop it with a salad fork?”
“I’m gonna stop it with precision,” I say. “With timing. And with allies who remember what war really cost.”
Sahmi squints. “Why now? You’ve been out of the game for years. Why dive back in?”
I hesitate.
Then I say her name.
“Kristi.”
There’s a beat.
Then Duran laughs. Harsh and low.
“The niece? Of all the people?—”
“She leaked the files,” I cut in. “She burned her own bridge. She knew what it’d cost.”
Vekt scoffs. “And you believed her?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t need to.
Because the truth’s already in my face.
In the way my jaw sets. In the quiet fury behind my eyes. In the way I place the blades on the table like an offering.
Sahmi sees it. She nods.
“She’s real, then.”
“She is.”
Duran exhales. “Alright. You’ve got your gear. But you’re not walking in alone.”
He tosses me a comm chip. “Old frequency. Black-band. We’ll run interference. Give you an edge.”
I pocket it. “I owe you.”
