Page 231 of Reaper Said Mine

I keep my expression still. “You signed.”

His jaw shifts.

“Yes.”

The simplicity of the answer hits harder than an excuse.

Bellamy turns away, giving me the illusion of privacy in a room full of people who can absolutely hear every word. Gail watches with diplomatic restraint. Milton pretends to read a document. Pelt’s image remains on mute, though her eyes stay sharp.

I lower my voice. “You signed the protectorate agreement.”

“I did what was necessary.”

The phrase lands like a slap because we have both used it too many times in too many dangerous rooms.

“Don’t,” I say.

His eyes narrow. “Do not what?”

“Do not give me the same sentence every government uses right before people start dying under a clean flag.”

Pain moves across his face so quickly someone else might miss it.

I do not.

That makes the anger worse.

“You think I wanted this?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you wanted, Gnash, because I found out from a public broadcast.”

He looks away, and the command center light catches the severe line of his cheek. When he looks back, his expression is harder. “Guyver was hit again. Civilian sectors were breached. We pulled children from smoke while hostile ships tested every shield seam. Outer holdings cannot be defended at current strength. Coalition support became the difference between evacuation and slaughter.”

“I know you were under pressure.”

“No,” he says, voice deepening. “You know pressure as a word. I know it as names on a casualty roll.”

The words strike cleanly.

Bellamy mutters, “Bad choice, big guy,” under his breath.

I ignore him because my pulse is roaring in my ears.

“You think I don’t know casualty rolls?” I ask.

Gnash goes very still.

For one terrible second, both of us stand on the edge of saying things that cannot be unsaid.

Rain lashes the windows harder.

I breathe through my nose, forcing the old Horus IV anger back into a shape that can speak without devouring everything.

“I am not questioning whether people were dying,” I say. “I am questioning whether the people who engineered this crisis just got exactly what they wanted.”

His voice lowers. “The people in my shelters wanted to live.”

“And they should.”