Recognized.
I lean in slightly, tracking the patterns as they unfold.
Three separate vectors.
Three different continents.
All converging.
Right on schedule.
“Delta Five is wheels up,” I say. “Three continents. Staggered arrival windows.”
Aaron doesn’t react outwardly—but I see it.
That subtle shift.
Relief… buried under control.
“Timing?” he asks.
“First arrival in under two hours,” I reply. “Last one won’t touch ground until just before dawn.”
Lark watches the board, eyes narrowing—not afraid, just calculating.
“Who are they?” she asks.
That earns a quiet smile from me.
Because there are teams.
And then there’s this one.
“Not soldiers,” I say.
A beat.
“Not exactly.”
The signals tighten, locking into approach patterns only a handful of people in the world could execute without tripping alarms.
I glance at her.
“They’re what gets sent,” I add quietly,
“when the problem isn’t supposed to exist by morning.”
Aaron exhales once.
Understands.
Lark studies me.
“Meaning?” she presses.
My grin doesn’t reach my eyes.
“Meaning,” I say,
