The war room at 4 a.m.
Not quiet. The building was never quiet, not with this many people moving through it. But the war room had gone still in a way that had nothing to do with sound. Five men around a table that usually had purpose, and the purpose was gone, and none of them had found the next thing to say.
Lucian had the breach report open in front of him. He hadn't looked at it in ten minutes. Gabriel was at the window, back to the room. Adrian's hands were flat on the table, eyes on the map. Sebastian in the corner, running checks on his phone that kept coming back clean in ways that didn't mean anything anymore. Matteo hadn't spoken since they'd confirmed the cell was empty.
The door opened.
Val walked in.
Still in the clothes she'd worn at dinner. Hair pulled back. Her face the face of someone who'd felt the full weight of the last two hours and had decided, somewhere between the surgical wing and this corridor, what to do with it.
