Meadow's POV
The room felt hollow. Not empty, exactly. But the air had changed. Every beep of the console, every flicker of a node on the network map, felt heavier. Louder. More deliberate. The storm outside had passed, leaving a wet, cold stillness that seeped into your bones.
Alaric sat back slightly, letting the weight of what had just happened settle. His hands rested on the edge of the console, fingers lightly tapping, not out of impatience but as if testing reality itself. You could see it in his eyes—the calculation, the control, and underneath, a quiet frustration he did not voice. He was a strategist stripped of his tools.
Lily paced slowly across the room, hands clasped, eyes darting between the monitors and the two of you. "They... they took him out," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Just like that. They didn't even touch us physically, and yet..." She stopped, struggling for words. "...everything feels broken."
