"We're an elite team with clearance levels that exceed yours," another spoke, this one leaning forward with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Darren or Jake. Dark hair fell across his forehead, curling slightly at the ends. They both had dark hair, unlike Richard. I focused on that detail, trying to lock it in place. "Our reports contain exactly what's relevant."
Darren.
Thank you.
So Darren was on the left with the navy shirt, while Jake sat on the right with the cameo shirt. There wasn't much more to distinguish them right now. Neither of them wore glasses. No visible birthmarks. Hopefully, their voices were different.
"And I'm the half-demon liaison tasked with identifying potential infiltration appointed by Zandia herself," I countered smoothly. "So humor me."
The room went still. No one moved. No one spoke. Then, almost imperceptibly, they shifted. Recalibrated. Reassessed.
Good. They were listening now.
The questions started simple… background information I already knew, details about their last mission, internal debriefs. They answered like soldiers trained for this. Polished. Precise. Cold. Full of practiced bullshit.
But it was too perfect. I didn't trust perfect.
"Tell me about the artifact you recovered." I kept my tone conversational, even as I watched their reactions with laser focus. Not that I knew a thing about it, but they didn't need to know that.
The leader, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that had seen too much, responded without hesitation. Richard… I had to remember who was who. "Black orb, approximately six inches in diameter. Obsidian exterior with an internal crystalline structure. Believed to be of demonic origin, possibly a power amplifier or storage device."
Textbook perfect. Word for word from the report.
"And who handled it directly?"
Five pairs of eyes slid toward a woman at the far end of the group. She sat with perfect posture, her dark skin glowing in the warm light, her expression carefully neutral. "I did. With proper containment protocols."
Question her. Make her doubt it.
I nodded, making a show of considering her words. "Interesting. Because according to the energy readings, the artifact was activated before containment."
It was a lie. A trap. There were no such readings. Or at least not that I knew of. Apparently, they weren't the only ones spewing bullshit today.
Her expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. Alarm? Anger? "That's impossible. The artifact was dormant."
One of the men gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Green shirt. Which one was that again? Not Richard.
Jake.
"Perhaps your equipment is faulty. Happens with demon tech sometimes."
"According to section 47-B of the Artifact Recovery Procedures, all activation states must be logged separately from energy readings." Another corrected me on a protocol that didn't exist according to the psychic push from Grayson.
Subtle. Petty. Deliberate. They didn't like being questioned. They really didn't like that it was me asking. Good thing Trux wasn't in here. Having the team Alpha deferring to me… Somehow I innately knew that wouldn't go well.
I felt Grayson's presence in my mind, a gentle pressure at the base of my skull. Something's off. Keep pushing.
I leaned forward, lacing my fingers together. "Tell me again how the mission in Denver ended. Your after-action report left out a few things."
The leader's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Did it?"
"Mmm." I held his gaze, refusing to look away first. Grayson sent me details that I relayed out loud. Damn, this was a handy little power. "The part where you lost contact with base for seventeen minutes. The part where the artifact pulsed twice before going dormant. The part where one of your team reported hearing voices after handling the containment case."
None of that was in any report. None of it might have happened at all. But if there was a compromised operative in this room—if one of them was carrying a demonic hitchhiker—they'd react. Grayson followed up with.
And react they did.
The blonde woman's pupils dilated slightly. The dark-haired man's jaw muscle twitched. The leader remained perfectly still… too still, like he was forcing himself not to move.
