The silence lingered.
Not stunned—
Measured.
Damien’s gaze stayed on the man sitting across from him.
His face.
His voice.
His presence.
Perfectly replicated.
Not an imitation. Not even close.
Exact.
His eyes narrowed slightly—not in disbelief, but calculation.
Useful.
But Damien Blackwood was not a man who accepted anything at face value—no matter how impressive they appeared on the surface.
Because something like this wasn’t just useful—it was dangerous.
In the wrong hands, it wouldn’t just deceive—it would destroy. Identities could be stolen, trust could be manipulated, entire systems could collapse under something this precise, this flawless.
His gaze shifted briefly between the men wearing the masks, sharp and assessing.
Control. That was what mattered.
Not the techno
