The briefing room smells like polished glass and controlled panic.
Everything in the Array does, if you pay attention long enough—sterile air scrubbers, ozone from the projection rigs, the faint metallic tang of Vein shielding humming behind the walls. High Command loves this room because it makes people feel small.
It doesn’t work on me anymore.
Not after Dock Seven. Not after Cassian’s lab. Not after Mira’s hands steadying my gear while she quietly proved that the Codex hesitates when my resonance layers instead of spikes.
Not after I walked into Halix’s office and said no like it was my birthright.
I stand near the front with Mira at my shoulder, a half-step behind in that way that says I’m on duty and I will stab someone for you simultaneously. She’s in medic blacks, hair pinned t
