"You have no idea."
Liam's eyes narrowed at once.
Noah smiled into his glass with the terrible serenity of a man who had thrown a knife and intended to deny ownership of the dead body.
Arik looked at him.
Noah looked back.
Then Douglas Stanford stepped into the room, accepted the chaos with one glance, and somehow made the air feel more organized by existing in it.
The rest of breakfast became, as Liam later decided, a formal ambush disguised as logistics.
Douglas introduced himself with a calm politeness that implied he could apologize before breaking someone's wrist. Liam questioned his authority. Douglas answered with clean, dreadful precision. Mezos added clarifications that sounded like legal restraints and threats depending on the angle of one's ears. Noah contributed nothing useful except commentary. Kamal refilled cups as though caffeine could prevent international complications.
Arik said very little.
He only watched Liam.
