JUDY’S POV
The first thing I noticed that morning was the noise.
OTS was never quiet. There was always movement, voices, the low hum of something being built, negotiated, planned.
Even in Lucian’s absence, we had managed to hold that rhythm together. Not perfectly. Not without friction. But intact.
This was different.
Voices raised too high. Footsteps too fast. The kind of tension that didn’t belong to routine—it belonged to disruption.
I paused halfway down the corridor, files tucked under my arm, my instincts tightening. My heart pounded, a sense of dread prickling beneath my skin.
A shout echoed from the main hall.
I didn’t think; I moved.
By the time I reached the central floor, the space was crowded.
Members had gathered in loose clusters, some standing, some edging back, others pushing forward in agitation.
The usual order—the invisible lines that kept OTS functioning—had fractured.
At the center of it all stood a group of five I didn’t recognize.
