"Reid," I said, my voice barely a whisper—but it carried.
It always did.
He was already halfway to the bedroom, his shirt unbuttoned, the weight of the day dragging at his shoulders, pulling him down into something almost human.
Almost.
But the moment my tone shifted—
he felt it.
The air changed.
The balance tilted.
And the Architect didn't walk back into the room.
He surged.
Fast. Sharp. Instinctive.
Like something deep inside him had just registered a structural failure.
"Maya?" he said, his voice tightening. "What is it?"
I didn't answer.
Didn't trust my voice to carry what I was seeing.
I simply turned the tablet toward him.
And let the truth speak for itself.
Reid didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
For a single, suspended second—
he froze.
Then his hand shot out, gripping the edge of the marble table so hard his knuckles blanched white beneath the strain.
His eyes locked onto the screen.
Onto Julian.
