The room felt smaller.
Not because it had changed—
But because pressure had taken over it.
Jackson was no longer just restrained.
He was breaking.
Two officers stood behind him. One stepped forward again—calm, controlled, but firm.
"You're running out of time," the officer said.
Jackson laughed weakly.
"Time?" he coughed. "You think time matters anymore?"
A sharp hit landed across the table.
Not wild.
Measured.
"Answer the question."
Behind them, multiple screens flickered—maps, signals, digital traces forming unstable patterns. Dorian's network was still active, still moving, still alive somewhere inside the system.
"We're tracking fragments," another officer said. "Masked relays. Encrypted jumps. He's online… but unstable."
Jackson tilted his head slightly.
A faint, broken smile curved his lips.
"Then you're already too late."
Silence.
Sebastian stood at the far end of the room.
Watching.
Not reacting.
Waiting.
