Public pressure.
Control.
“They’re flipping the board,” I say. “Not hiding anymore. Owning it.”
Behind me, one of the analysts mutters, “This is coordinated.”
“No,” I correct quietly.
“This is orchestration.”
Aaron doesn’t speak.
I don’t need to see him to know what that means.
Lark’s voice comes in—soft, steady, too calm for what’s happening.
“They’re not trying to kill me.”
I lean back slightly, eyes still locked on the screens.
“No,” I say. “They’re trying to define you.”
“And if they win that…” she says.
I finish it for her.
“You become radioactive.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Final.
“And you can’t protect someone the world thinks is the villain,” she says.
That’s the real attack.
Not bullets.
Perception.
I glance at the screen again—watching her name spread, multiply, distort.
Then Aaron speaks.
Two words.
Low.
Certain.
“Watch me.”
And yeah—
That’s exactly what he’s about to do.
