“That’s one way to make an entrance,” he muttered, voice flat but amused.
His gaze flicked from me to Kennedy, back again—brows raised like he was seeing the ghost of some old version of me he never thought would show up here.
“Yeah, well.” I rolled my shoulders. Loosened the tension coiled down my spine. “Better than being stuck in a cage.”
He snorted. Dry. Brief.
But I caught it—that glint of concern behind the sarcasm.
Ackerman wasn’t the sentimental type.
He didn’t give a damn about ceremony.
But he knew what this meant.
What it cost.
He’d seen what I was like when I didn’t have control.
And now?
He was watching me walk willingly into a different kind of chaos.
I turned to Kennedy.
She was staring at Ackerman's suit like it was forged from another fucking planet.
“Get dressed,” I said, voice low but firm.
She nodded once. No hesitation. Just fire.
Something about that moment hit different.
She wasn’t scared anymore.
She was bracing for war.
With me.
She disappeared into the small side room without a word, door clicking shut behind her.
I turned back to Ackerman. “You got everything?”
He held up the jacket. Midnight black. No frills. No fluff.
Just like me.
“Yeah. Everything you need to look halfway presentable for a war crime.”
I smirked. Barely. “Perfect.”
Silence stretched between us.
Ackerman straightened his tie. Gave me that no-nonsense stare.
“This it?” he asked.
I didn’t answer right away.
