The city did not sleep that night.
It waited.
From the upper floors of the estate, Aria watched the lights flicker across the skyline, each glow a signal, each shadow a possibility. The storm Cassian had promised had not arrived with spectacle. No explosions. No alarms. Just silence sharpened to a blade.
That was how he worked when he wanted them uneasy.
Behind her, the room breathed with quiet technology, monitors dimmed, data streams muted, systems running on low hum rather than dominance. This was no longer a war room built for intimidation. It was a thinking space. A place for decisions that could not be undone.
Dante stood near the table, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled back. He looked older like this, not weaker, but stripped of ceremony. Human in a way the empire rarely allowed him to be.
"They've gone dark," he said, breaking the stillness. "All three proxy channels. No chatter. No decoys."
Aria did not turn.
