More silence. Julian exchanges a glance with Nadia. Victor shifts uncomfortably.
Then Maximus speaks.
"Ethan. Pull the donor residence list. I want a vulnerability assessment on every location by tomorrow night. Cross-reference with Konstantin's known operational patterns." He straightens, and I try not to notice the way the movement draws attention to his height, the lean lines of his body beneath that perfectly tailored jacket. "We've been thinking about this as a supply chain problem. Celeste is right. It's a psychological operation. Konstantin isn't just trying to cut our resources. He's trying to make everyone in this network feel hunted."
Julian leans toward me. "He's never changed strategy mid-briefing based on a fledgling's suggestion," he murmurs. "Just so you know."
I don't respond. Don't trust myself to.
Maximus didn't praise me. Didn't acknowledge what I'd said with anything more than immediate action. He just incorporated it, like my perspective was always supposed to be part of the equation.
That means more than any compliment could have.
The meeting continues for another twenty minutes. Assignments distributed, timelines established, contingencies planned. I follow the discussion, but my awareness has narrowed to a single point. Every time he moves, I track it. Every time he speaks, something tightens low in my stomach. I catalog details I shouldn't be noticing. The way his dark hair falls across his forehead when he leans over the maps. The faint hollow at the base of his throat. The curve of his lower lip when he's considering a problem.
I catch him glancing at me. Just once. A flicker of gray eyesmeeting mine across the table, holding for half a second too long before he looks away.
The place where his gaze touched feels warm.
"We reconvene tomorrow night with preliminary assessments," Maximus says finally. "Questions?"
None.
"Then we're done."
Chairs scrape against the floor. The inner circle gathers tablets and documents, conversations splintering into smaller clusters as people file toward the door. Nadia leaves first, already on her phone. Ethan and Victor follow, still debating patrol routes.
Julian pauses near my chair. "Good call on the donors," he says quietly. "Not many people would challenge the room's assumptions their second week in."
"Seemed obvious."
"Obvious things are the easiest to miss when you've been staring at the same problems for a hundred years." He glances toward Maximus, then back at me. Something knowing flickers in his expression. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be long."
Then he's gone, and the room is emptying, and I should stand up and leave with the others.
I don't.
Marcellus is the last to reach the door. He pauses with his hand on the frame, looking back at Maximus. Then at me. Then, at the shrinking distance between us that neither of us has acknowledged.
"I'll make sure you're not disturbed," he says.
The door closes behind him with a soft click.
The silence that follows is deafening.
We're alone. The realization settles into my bones, spreads through me like heat, makes my skin prickle with awareness. Theconference room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick, the distance between us both too vast and not nearly enough.
Maximus is still standing at the head of the table, hands braced against its surface. The position makes the tendons in his forearms stand out beneath his rolled sleeves. I hadn't noticed when he'd pushed them up. I notice now. I notice everything now.
He's not looking at the maps anymore.
He's looking at me.
Neither of us moves.
"You were quiet." His voice is different now. Lower. Rougher. The commander stripped away, leaving something rawer underneath.
"I was listening."
