Then Isabelle stepped forward.
Her movement was so smooth it looked rehearsed. She didn't even acknowledge me. Just turned to address the group instead.
"This is illogical," she said. Each word carried weight. "The Sentinels are already training. I've observed their regimen. While we stand here arguing, they are completing their third hour of coordinated drills. Every moment we waste is a moment they widen the gap between us. Do you wish to be humiliated in two weeks? To confirm every dismissive judgment they've made about us?"
She'd just handed me an opening on a silver platter. Appealed to their pride and their fear. Now I needed to add my own flavor to it. The carrot and the stick. Oldest trick in the book.
