We don’t overlook it today. We’re escorted to it.
Four security officers met us at the edge of the quad. Four. For a “routine conversation.” They flank us without a word, and now we’re walking through corridors that smell like nothing — antiseptic and empty, scrubbed clean of anything human.
Locke’s jaw is tight. I see him clocking the cameras, the locked doors, the lack of windows. Rane’s gone quiet, which is worse than his nervous chatter. Vaelor’s hand brushes Nova’s back, steadying her, and Beckett is watching everything with that flat expression that means he’s watching for anything that could mean something.
Nova’s shoulders are creeping up toward her ears. She’s scared but trying not to show it.
I want to reach for her. But I don’t.
Not yet.
The security officers stop at a door. One of them opens it and gestures us inside.
The room is small. Clinical. A table in the center with chairs on both sides — one side clearly meant for us, the other for whoever’s about to sit across from us and pretend this is a conversation instead of an interrogation.
“Sit,” the officer says.
We sit. Nova ends up between me and Locke. Good. I need to be close to her.
The door closes behind us. We wait.
One minute. Two. The silence presses down.
Then the door opens again.
One man. Alone. He crosses to the opposite side of the table and sits down without greeting us, without introducing himself, without any of the procedural niceties that are supposed to make this feel normal.
He doesn’t need to introduce himself.
I know who he is the second I see his face.
The same sharp jaw. The same cold eyes. The same way of looking at people like they’re specimens instead of humans.
Silas’s father.
Laith Crux.
He’s older, obviously — gray at his temples, lines around his mouth — but the resemblance is unmistakable. This is where Silas learned to watch people like he’s calculating their worth.
Laith’s eyes move across us. Assessing. Dismissing Locke, Rane, Vaelor, Beckett, Trey.
Then they land on Nova.
And stay there.
“Thank you for coming,” he says. His voice is smooth, almost pleasant. Definitely wrong. “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here.”
No one answers. We’re not stupid enough to fill his silences for him.
“There was an incident recently. A fire in your residence. We’re simply following up.”
“We already spoke with campus administration,” Locke says. “Filed a report.”
“Yes. I’ve read it.” Laith doesn’t look at Locke. He’s still watching Nova. “Electrical malfunction. Faulty wiring. Very unfortunate.”
The way he says it makes clear he doesn’t believe a word.
“However.” He folds his hands on the table. “Given the unique nature of your cluster, we felt a more thorough conversation was warranted.”
