The estate had grown quieter since the vote had been announced.
Not safer.
Just quieter.
The kind of quiet that pressed against the ribs and waited for something to break it.
Elara found Marco Vitale in the west corridor where the glass walls overlooked the lower training yard — the same place where Corporate briefings were held during the day and where wolves watched the boundary at night.
He did not turn when she approached.
Did not pretend not to notice her either.
He simply… remained.
Composed.
Still.
A strategist waiting for information he already understood.
"That's it?" she asked.
Her voice sounded strange in her own ears.
Thin.
Tired.
He did not answer.
"What the hell, Marco?"
Now he turned.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As though even the motion required thought.
---
"I thought you promised my father something."
The words landed heavier than she intended.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Uff—
For a moment, she thought he would deny it.
