Then Aaron, already knowing—
“No.”
I don’t argue.
I don’t soften it.
Because there’s no version of this where it isn’t true.
“They need her,” I say quietly. “Publicly. In real time.”
Another silence.
Longer.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
Because this isn’t about strategy anymore.
It’s about her.
And what it will cost.
42
Lark
Location: Polícia Judiciária — Secure Wing (Temporary Command Room)
Time: Same
They move me again.
Different corridor.
Different door.
The energy shifts before I even step inside.
This room is bigger—but not permanent.
Too many mobile screens.
Too many people pulled in too quickly.
Too much urgency layered over structure.
This isn’t where decisions are made.
This is where they react.
More screens.
More people.
Fewer uniforms.
