Font Size:
The air shifts.
Subtle.
But real.
Ronan moves to my left.
Not obvious.
Never obvious.
But I feel him there.
The team is closing ranks.
Not panicking.
Not reacting.
Preparing.
The man notices.
Of course he does.
“These decisions don’t belong to you,” he says.
“They never did.”
“No,” I agree.
“They belong to people who think they can control outcomes.”
A beat.
Then I step closer.
Close enough that he has to adjust his stance—
just slightly.
“And here’s where you made your mistake.”
His expression doesn’t change.
But his attention sharpens.
“You think she’s alone,” I continue.
“You think if you isolate her, pressure her, break her—this ends clean.”
A pause.
Then—
“It doesn’t.”
Behind me, I feel Lark move.
