The nameplate caught the light first.
CALLAHAN.
Polished. Smug. Sitting there like a warning label I'd ignored once already.
I stared at it longer than necessary, letting the glare burn into my eyes. Maybe if I focused hard enough, it would tell me how this ended. Whether I walked out with my people… or walked out alone, escorted, stripped of whatever illusion of safety we'd borrowed by stepping inside these walls.
I blinked slowly, grit still clinging to my eyes, lids heavy like they'd been glued shut and ripped open too soon. Sleep had been a rumor last night— something other people got. Not me. Not after Jane. Not after Peter. Not after realizing what I'd let Lila handle for me.
That thought alone made my jaw tighten.
Using Lila to fix things had felt efficient in the moment.
This morning, it felt like rot.
I leaned back in the chair anyway, arms loose, posture careless. If this was the part where we got escorted out at gunpoint, I wanted to look bored when it happened.
