We were walking straight into it.
56
Lark
Location: Secure Analysis Room — Lisbon
Time: Same
Everything rearranges.
Not gradually.
Not piece by piece.
All at once.
Like a puzzle I’ve been solving for years—
finally snapping into a single, horrifying image.
The funding.
The grants that appeared just when I needed them.
The mentor who pushed—but never interfered.
The quiet approvals.
The doors that opened too easily.
“They weren’t waiting for me to finish,” I whisper.
My voice feels distant.
Detached.
Like I’m observing my own life from the outside.
“They were shaping it.”
Aaron steps closer. “Ready for what?”
I don’t look at him.
I can’t.
Because if I do—
this becomes real in a way I’m not ready to face.
“For permission,” I say.
The word feels small.
It isn’t.
I pull up the system layers.
