Killian.
Claude beat us to the corridor.
His hair was kind of smashed flat, shirt untucked, but his eyes were sharp...even though it was stupid early. He looked at my face first, then Candice, then back at me. "Who," he asked.
I showed him the phone. The name sat there in black text, flagged in the monitor log...no way around it.
Claude stared. His jaw got tight. "Brent," he muttered.
"Border captain," Candice said, already moving. "Eleven years. He served under the old Alpha." She shot me a look over her shoulder. "So he knows every patrol rotation back before the attacks, knows the timing, the gaps, the captain handovers." She kept walking. "He's been giving them a roadmap."
"Where's his room?" I said.
"East wing, second floor," Claude said.
We moved.
Nobody else was out. It was
