The sound came first.
Not the impact. Not the scream. Just the sharp, unmistakable c***k of something breaking that was never meant to.
Glass.
It echoed down the street, slicing through conversation, traffic, and distraction. Heads turned in instinctive unison.
Then came the second sound.
A body hitting pavement.
The footage was already circulating by the time Elara reached the conference room.
Not polished. Not framed.
Someone’s phone. Vertical. Shaking.
A man on the steps of a municipal building. Mid-sentence. A folder slipped from his hands.
Then the glass above him shattered outward.
Not inward.
Outward.
The implication was immediate.
This was not an accident.
Elara stopped walking.
Lucien reached the screen first, already scanning angles, timestamps, and sightlines.
“
