"What is the meaning of this?" Colt's voice boomed through the hall.
The man stood squarely in front of Athena, thick-shouldered and grim, the lines of his shirt crisp enough to cut. His jaw twitched as he watched the dark-clad Nimbus agents move silently across the marble floor. They had arrived only hours ago, already setting up a secure perimeter around the President's quarters.
Athena rubbed her temples before answering. The pressure behind her eyes throbbed—fatigue and tension in equal measure. She didn't have the strength for this argument. Colt's tone made her want to snap back, but she forced herself to breathe slowly, to stay measured.
The living room meanwhile, had become a tactical base. Laptops lined the modern table beside holographic scanners and portable bio-readers. The Nimbus agents' gear gleamed faintly under the recessed ceiling lights. Their quiet efficiency only seemed to irritate Colt more.
