The preparation for the meeting was meticulous.
The safehouse was quiet. The air was cool from the AC and carried the faint smell of metal, cleaning spray, and old concrete. Light from a single overhead bulb made a hard circle on the table. The concrete floor was cold under my feet. Dust motes floated in the light and settled slowly on the surface of the wood. The walls were bare. Paint was chipped in the corners.
I couldn't walk into a room with Empress Song Mei carrying any trace of Noah Reed. Not a posture, not a habit, not a glance. Nothing.
The physical transformation was only the first step. I spent three hours in the safehouse with Ethan, running through the Vanguard psychological immersion protocols until my body remembered them.
