Just slightly.
But enough.
“That data is classified.”
“So is murder,” I reply. “And you’re standing in the middle of it.”
Lark finally looks up.
And when she does—
the room shifts again.
Because now she’s not reacting.
She’s deciding.
“You funded me,” she says quietly. “You shaped my career. You pointed me at problems you wanted solved.”
He says nothing.
Because there’s nothing he can say.
“You didn’t steal my system,” she continues.
Her voice is steady now.
Clear.
Final.
“You grew it.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Irreversible.
Then—
“You don’t understand the world you’re playing with,” he says.
There’s something sharper in it now.
A warning.
Maybe even a plea.
Lark stands.
Steps forward.
Not behind me.
Beside me.
“No,” she says.
