But the timing, while I've been in here falling apart, Konstantin has been moving.
"He's testing us," I say, my mind shifting gears despite itself. The strategic part of my brain waking up, analyzing patterns. "Probing our defenses while we're distracted."
His people who escaped will have reported back by now. He knows we're destabilized.
"Or he's just opportunistic." I stand, muscle memory taking over even as the rest of me still feels shattered. "What's our response capability?"
"Julian is still recovering. I can mobilize a team, but if we retaliate tonight, we're doing it short-handed."
The old instinct surges, take control, make decisions, issue orders. Keep everything locked down tight so nothing else can hurt me.
But that's the same instinct that made me bench Celeste. The same fear dressed up as strategy.
"Don't retaliate tonight," I say. "Secure our remaining assets, increase patrols, but don't engage. I want a full assessment before we act."
Marcellus raises an eyebrow. "That's... measured. For you."
"I'm trying something new."
He studies me for a moment, then nods. "I'll coordinate the response. But Maximus, whatever you're going to do about Celeste, do it tonight. We need everyone to be functional when Konstantin escalates. And right now, neither of you is functional."
He's right. We're compromised, both of us, and Konstantin won't wait for us to sort ourselves out.
"I know," I say. "I'm going to talk to her."
"Talk?" He sounds skeptical.
"Show her. Talk to her. Whatever it takes." I meet his eyes. "You were right. Actions, not words. I'm going to start with the security center."
The night shiftguards snap to attention when I enter.
"Sir. We heard about Decatur. Marcellus has already issued…"
"I'm not here about Decatur." I move to the primary console. "I need to modify an operational restriction. Celeste Moreau. I placed her on inactive field status earlier today."
"Yes, sir. It's logged."
"Remove it. She's reinstated to full active status, effective immediately."
The guard hesitates, glancing at his colleague. "Reinstated, sir?"
"That's what I said."
His fingers move over the keyboard. "Done. She's cleared for all field operations."
I turn to leave, then pause. "Log the change under my authorization. If anyone questions it, they answer to me."
"Yes, sir."
The walk to her room feels longer than it should. Each step is a choice, a choice to keep moving forward instead of retreating to the safety of control and distance. By the time I reach her corridor, my hands have steadied. The trembling has stopped.
But underneath the calm, something fragile and terrified still pulses.
I stop outside her door. Listen.
Movement inside. The soft pad of footsteps. She's awake,probably pacing the way I was pacing earlier. Two damaged people wearing paths in their respective floors.
I raise my hand to knock, and freeze.
