Tarsen’s smile twitches. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I say.
He hesitates, then slowly reaches into his coat and pulls out a slim comm stick, sets it on the table.
“Anything else,” I prompt.
He sighs and adds a folded cred-slate. “That’s all.”
I keep my eyes on him. “Good. Now go.”
He leaves without another word.
When the door closes, I exhale slowly and finally allow my shoulders to drop a fraction.
Jordan’s voice is in my ear, tight. “Lonari.”
“Yeah,” I say.
Her words come out raw. “Thank you.”
I swallow. “Don’t thank me yet.”
Because I’m already thinking about the next move.
I cross to the table, pick up the comm stick Tarsen left, then glance down at the floor where Jasker stood.
Something glints near the chair leg.
I crouch and pick it up.
A small, old-fashioned transmit chip—cheap casing, but the coding on its surface makes my scales prickle.
Nine encryption.
I roll it between my claws, then slot it into my slate.
A schedule blooms in the holo projection.
EXTRACTION WINDOW: MORAZIN VALEER
TIMING: WITHIN 72 HOURS
ROUTE: CLASSIFIED
HANDOFF: INTERNAL AUTHORITY CHANNELS
My chest tightens.
Jordan’s voice whispers, “What is it?”
“It’s a death sentence disguised as logistics,” I say.
I stand and stare at the glowing timeline.
They’re planning to extract Morazin.
Not rescue him.
