Adrian's POV
I stopped calling it anger a long time ago. Anger burns hot and fast. What lives in me now is colder, much denser. A pressure system lodged behind my eyes, tightening every time I think of Quinn's name. It isn't hatred either; hatred implies distance.
This is contamination. I feel him everywhere.
In the way, my thoughts align too quickly. In the reflex to anticipate betrayal before trust can breathe. In the echo of his voice that still knows how to sound like guidance.
You're losing clarity, Adrian. Emotion is destabilizing you. Control it or I will.
The Council chamber is empty when I enter. I had gone back to the scene of Kelly's kidnapping, but that doesn't matter. Quinn was never bound by rooms. He existed in thresholds between thought and action, between certainty and doubt.
The psychic lattice hums as I open myself deliberately, recklessly, to the deeper channels. The kind I once swore never to access without restraint. The Veil doesn't fear brute force.
