Twenty minutes later, the operations room no longer looked like a place where people gathered to discuss plans.
It looked like the final room before a war.
Weapons were checked.
Earpieces distributed.
Maps transferred onto portable devices.
Medical packs clipped to belts.
Security teams moved in coordinated silence, their boots soft against the floor, their faces unreadable.
Allison stood near the center table watching all of it happen.
Not as an outsider.
Not as someone being protected.
As someone preparing to walk into it.
That thought settled strangely in her chest.
For so long, she had been surviving other people's decisions.
Anthony's lies.
Martha's cruelty.
Vivienne's obsession.
Aaron's games.
Even her father's protection.
Everyone had moved around her.
For her.
Against her.
Because of her.
But now, for the first time, Allison felt the shift.
She wasn't waiting to be saved.
She was going.
Roman dropped a black case onto the table in front of her.
