She holds my gaze, something else building behind it now. “Say it properly,” she says.
I tilt my head slightly. “Say what?”
“That I matter to this,” she says.
There it is.
Not strategy.
Not politics.
Something else entirely.
I watch her for a moment, measuring the weight of the question against what I’m willing to give.
“You matter to the outcome,” I say.
It isn’t what she asked for, and we both know it.
She studies me anyway, searching for something I don’t offer, then exhales slowly. “Fine.”
It isn’t agreement.
It isn’t refusal.
It’s enough.
“Be ready,” I add. “We leave soon.”
She nods once, no hesitation, no second thought.
I turn to leave, but her voice stops me.
“You’re not doing this for them,” she says.
I glance back over my shoulder. “No.”
“For him.”
“No.”
She watches me, her expression unreadable for a moment. “Then why?”
I hold her gaze just long enough.
“Because I don’t lose,” I say.
By the timeI return to the inner halls, the structure is already forming. Names move through the corridors ahead of me, carried in quiet conversations, unit assignments taking shape before they’re formally declared. Everything is aligning into something that resembles stability, even if the foundation beneath it is intentionally weakened.
“Everything is in motion,” Skot says as he steps into place beside me again.
“Good.”
“You’ve accepted the terms.”
“I’ve acknowledged them,” I reply, glancing toward him.
“That’s not the same thing.”
