Now I turn.
The operations room is quiet, lit only by the glow of the monitors.
Maps cover the far wall.
Montana.
Idaho.
Wyoming.
Dozens of small markers spread across the region.
Search-and-rescue teams.
Volunteer groups.
Community programs.
Each one a thread.
Each thread connected to the larger system.
A web strong enough to hold when governments fail.
“He won’t destroy it,” I say calmly.
“How do you know?”
“Because once he sees what it can become…”
I gesture toward the wall of maps.
“…he’ll realize it’s necessary.”
Her expression remains skeptical.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we learn something valuable.”
“Which is?”
“Who replaces him.”
She studies me for a moment.
“You’ve been planning this for a long time.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
I glance back at the screen.
At Boone Grant, walking back into the sanctuary where Wren waits.
Long enough to understand the truth most people refuse to see.
