The night had swallowed the sky whole. My comms watch lit up the inside of the car like a flare as I stared at the message.

Too late.

I looked up at the building through the windshield. Lights blazed from every floor, turning the glass facade into a wall of cold white fire. The street around it lay dead quiet, unnaturally still.

Whatever Bala wanted me to stay away from, I’d practically parked in its shadow.

I sat there a moment longer, one hand still resting on the wheel, weighing whether to reverse out of sight or push closer and see for myself.

[The place is surrounded. They’ve already seen you.]

[Every option left gets you arrested. Stay calm. Act normal.]

I exhaled slowly, fingers flexing on the wheel.

Act normal.

That was the whole of how I’d survived the plains after losing my mother. Move forward. Act like nothing was wrong. It was how I’d reached the walls with no ability at all—just walking like I belonged there. It was how I’d been living with a system interrupting my life every single day, acting like it was all completely normal.

I got out, closed the door with a solid thunk, and walked toward the CGI building without breaking stride. My eyes swept the deepening shadows along the perimeter. Soldiers, hidden. Some armed. I clocked their positions and kept walking.

[Enhanced hearing.]

The world exploded into sharp, agonizing clarity. Sound sharpened around me, sharper than it had ever been out on the plain. The static hiss of tactical earpieces cut through the gathering night like knives, leaking the whispers of men hidden in the dark.

"Should we take him?" a voice whispered from somewhere to my right.

"We blow our cover. Bala doesn’t know he’s surrounded."

"You’re a cunt if you think that. Doesn’t it strike you as strange nobody’s come out of that fucking building yet?"

"Why not just storm it?" another voice hissed from the left side of the building. "We outnumber them."

I didn’t slow down. Didn’t speed up either. They were running this on comms and in whispers.

"You’re an idiot. That’s CGI headquarters. The only way we step inside is if Bala’s dead."

So that’s the plan.

"Take the kid, General?" a voice asked.

"No." Sinn’s voice, unmistakable, cut through the rest. "I know him. It works better for us if he’s inside."

"Does Lady Veyron approve that?" someone pushed back.

Lady Veyron. There it was. The primordial families were running this revolution.

"I said let him in," Sinn said, voice sharpening.

I kept walking at the same even pace, reached the main doors, slid one open with a smooth push, stepped through, and let it close behind me with a quiet click.

I exhaled and turned, but my eyes hit nothing useful. The glass was mirrored from both sides. Whatever was happening outside stayed outside, and whatever was happening in here stayed in here.

The reception area and the corridor ahead stood empty, but the building wasn’t silent. Low murmurings drifted from deeper within—tense, clipped voices overlapping like they were trying to stay quiet and failing. The air felt thick and charged.

My watch buzzed against my wrist. I answered instantly, still walking, boots quiet on the polished floor.

"This is Sinn." His voice came through measured and low, the calm command tone he used when things were deadly serious. "I need one thing from you."

I stayed silent, jaw tight, listening.

"Tell Bala he’s playing a losing game. Tell him we’re ready to talk."

The line went dead.

Sinn wants a conversation, I thought, and he’s using me as the messenger.

I filed the words away and kept moving. The security cameras blinked above me in the corridor, their small red indicator lights tracking my every step like watchful eyes.

Voices grew louder ahead. I followed them down the hall.

"They can’t storm in," Pauline’s voice carried, calm as ever. "They know we have bots and an organized defense."

"So what’s their play?" A male voice I didn’t recognize, edged with frustration.

"Cut our supplies," Pauline answered. "Starve us out. They’ll stop hiding soon and surround the building openly. Make it visible."

"Does Lord Bala have a plan?" Emily’s voice, tight with worry. Then I stepped into the doorway.

The mission room held about eight people. Pauline paced slowly at the front, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, the familiar gentle rhythm of her steps somehow holding the tension in the room together. Emily sat among unfamiliar staff members, fingers twisting a pen.

Sherry and Danny were the only agents present—Sherry leaning against the far wall, arms crossed tight over her chest, shoulders rigid in that unmistakable posture of someone who knew she didn’t belong here.

"Yes," Pauline answered, her eyes flicking to mine the moment I appeared. A faint flicker of relief crossed her face before she smoothed it away. "Lord Bala has everything under control."

Does he?

I crossed straight to Sherry.

"Bram." Her voice came out in a hushed breath. She pushed off the wall and pulled me in hard. I wrapped both arms around her, gripping tight, the kind of fierce hold that said I’m here without a single extra word. Her fingers dug into my back for a moment, then eased.

"Did these people actually attack CGI headquarters?" A man in the room asked, voice cracking with raw disbelief.

"Trust me—" Pauline began, then suddenly pressed a finger to her earpiece, brow furrowing. "Excuse me a moment."

Sherry didn’t let go right away. I didn’t either. Outside these walls, the revolution had already begun. One of their targets was Bala himself, and here I stood—inside the building they were circling like wolves.

"Abram." Pauline’s voice returned, calm but urgent. "Lord Bala needs you in his office."

*How does he know I’m here?* The cameras. Of course.

Sherry loosened her arms slightly, pulling back just enough to look up at me. Her eyes searched mine, worry etched deep. "You have to go," she whispered.

"Do you want to come?" I asked.

"He called for you."

"I know." I studied her face properly. No Becky. No Max. No Ernesto. The absence of her usual circle showed in the tight set of her mouth and the way her shoulders stayed hunched. "Do you want to come?"

She gave a small, quick nod and slipped her hand into mine, fingers lacing tight.

We moved out together, leaving Pauline’s steady voice behind us as she tried to hold the room together.

***

The command floor was almost deserted. Most offices sat dark, doors pulled shut, the kind of heavy silence that settles when people have either fled or are holding their breath somewhere deeper inside the building.

Only one light burned.

Bala’s office. The door stood half open, spilling a thin, sharp strip of warm light across the corridor floor like a blade.

Voices drifted out into the hallway. One was Bala’s—steady, low, controlled. The other I didn’t recognize at all, a rougher edge beneath the words.

Who’s in there?

Sherry’s hand tightened around mine, her grip sudden and fierce. I felt her pulse jump against my palm.

I glanced at her. Her face had gone still in that particular way she got when she’d already made up her mind about something dangerous. No fear in her eyes. She gave me one small, deliberate nod.

I drew in a slow breath and stepped toward the doorway.