Sentinel goes still.
Then—
He smiles.
Not wide.
Not obvious.
But real.
“Found you,” he murmurs.
The man leans in slightly. “Sir?”
Sentinel taps the screen once.
“Her mother,” he says.
The man frowns. “There’s no current contact. She’s not even in—”
“I don’t need contact,” Sentinel interrupts.
Calm.
Precise.
“I need imprint.”
A beat.
“Behavior doesn’t disappear,” he continues. “It waits.”
The room feels colder now.
Sharper.
“Sir… what are you suggesting?”
Sentinel leans back slightly, considering the shape of it.
Not force.
Not threat.
Not yet.
Something quieter.
More surgical.
“We introduce a familiar pressure,” he says.
The man’s brow furrows. “You’re going to… what? Reach out to the mother?”
Sentinel’s gaze flicks to him.
Unimpressed.
