“Good,” I say through clenched teeth. “So are we.”
I look back at Morazin.
“Name,” I say again.
He stares at me like I’m insane.
Maybe I am.
But I’m not backing down.
Morazin’s lips part?—
And then?—
A priority channel cuts through every feed at once.
Executive override.
Not a jammer.
Not interference.
A sanctioned insertion.
The screen flickers, and for a split second, the council-tier liaison channel watermark flashes across the lower corner of the stream—subtle, but I see it.
So does Clint.
“Oh no,” he whispers.
The moderator’s display glitches, then stabilizes.
A new window begins to open.
Incoming statement request.
High Command channel.
Live.
They’re not hiding.
They’re stepping into the feed.
Lonari’s eyes meet mine.
This just got bigger.
I feel the air in my lungs go thin and electric.
We pulled the thread.
And now the fabric is moving.
Morazin’s eyes are wild.
“You see?” he breathes. “You see what happens when you get close?”
