The man hesitates. “No, sir.”
“No,” Sentinel agrees. “He hasn’t.”
His gaze returns to the image.
“This started long before I ever touched her.”
That’s what makes her interesting.
Not the resistance.
Not the intelligence.
The origin.
The shape of it.
“She doesn’t escalate,” Sentinel continues. “She doesn’t fracture outward. She folds inward. Compresses. Refines.”
The man frowns slightly. “I’m not sure I—”
“She was trained to be quiet,” Sentinel says.
Not a guess.
A conclusion.
“She measures every response. Controls tone. Limits output.”
A slight tilt of his head.
“That’s not tactical. That’s personal.”
The room stills.
Because now—
Now it’s not about systems.
It’s about her.
“And Carter?” the man asks carefully.
Sentinel’s mouth curves slightly.
“That’s where it becomes inefficient.”
The man doesn’t understand.
Not yet.
Sentinel steps closer to the screen, zooming in just slightly—not on her injuries, not on the room—
On the space between her and Logan.
Minimal.
Intentional.
