“Yes,” I agreed. “And when he does, he’ll tighten control.”
I straightened, already moving.
“Which means we have a window.”
Russ was on his headset instantly. Boone’s hands were flying across the console now, matching my pace.
“Logan,” Boone said, voice tight. “If we push now, we risk alerting him.”
I shook my head once.
“No,” I said. “If we wait, she pays the price.”
I stared at the anomaly—at the signature that didn’t belong to Sentinel.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Intent.
“She didn’t leave me a map,” I said quietly. “She left me permission.”
I turned to the team.
“We move,” I said. “Not loud. Not fast.”
Russ nodded. “Then how?”
I met his gaze.
“Like we’re already inside,” I said.
Because Scout Fallon hadn’t just survived Sentinel’s test.
She’d turned his system into a door.
And I was done knocking.
12
Sentinel
The system corrected itself.
That was wrong.
Sentinel stood motionless in the control room, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the cascading data streams. No alarms. No red flags. No obvious fault.
Just a correction.
He replayed the sequence again—slower this time. Frame by frame. Decision trees recalibrating. Stress-response thresholds drifting back into alignment as if they’dnever been touched.
As if the system itself had learned.
His jaw tightened.
That was not possible.
