The room didn't breathe.
It held.
Tight.
Fragile.
Like everything inside it was balanced on a single thread and Camille was the one holding the blade to cut it.
Her fingers tightened around the cracked drive.
She could feel the jagged edge pressing into her palm, sharp enough to hurt, grounding enough to keep her steady. The pain helped. It kept her from shaking.
Because if she let herself feel everything
The betrayal.
The fear.
The pressure.
She would break.
And she couldn't afford that.
Not now.
Not when every single person in that room was waiting for her to hesitate.
"Don't," Dante said again, his voice lower this time.
Not a command.
Something else.
Something closer to… warning.
Or maybe concern.
Camille didn't look at him.
If she did, she might falter.
And she couldn't.
Not now.
"Take another step," she said, her voice steadier than she felt, "and I swear I'll crush it completely."
That got a reaction.
The man stilled.
Elena's eyes sharpened.
