I watch the simulation unfold. The red zone spreads across the holographic city map like a plague.
Every gargoyle within that radius would calcify.
Permanently.
"This requires deeper investigation," I say quietly.
"Agreed," Kael says. "But sir—if Sentinel Dynamics is developing something beyond bio-engineered enforcers, if they are moving into weaponization territory, then the threat profile shifts significantly."
He pauses.
"And if they have flagged Ms. Beck as a leverage asset, they may be planning to use her to extract information about our defensive capabilities."
The words settle over me like a weight.
My protective instincts roar to life.
"Implement full surveillance on Sentinel's research facility," I say. "I want to know every shipment, every personnel movement, every encrypted communication. And increase security protocols around Tamsin immediately."
"Already in progress," Kael says.
I nod, but my mind is already moving ahead, calculating threat vectors, assessing vulnerabilities.
Sentinel Dynamics is not just circling anymore.
They are preparing for something.
And I need to understand what before it becomes a problem I cannot solve.
He pauses.
"Except Sentinel Dynamics has a forensic accountant on retainer who specializes in tracing obfuscated financial flows. And she is very, very good at her job."
My jaw tightens.
"They traced the funds," I say.
"They traced the funds," Kael confirms. "To a single recipient. Tamsin Beck. Twenty-six years old. Licensed massage therapist. Currently employed by Apex Wellness Clinic on a contract basis."
He swipes again.
A photograph appears.
Tamsin.
Standing outside her apartment building, wearing her cracked sneakers and oversized hoodie, carrying a canvas bag over one shoulder.
The image is grainy. Surveillance footage. Taken without her knowledge.
My amber veins flare.
Hot.
Immediate.
Dangerous.
"When was this taken?" I ask.
