"Everything is now in position, Giska, I hope you are ready to see exactly what you have just invited into your bunker."
The cold, synthetic air of the penthouse dining room seemed to sharpen as Zeldin spoke those words, though his voice remained a low, controlled hum. Rea sat opposite him, her hands trembling so slightly that only a man of Zeldin’s immense observation could notice. The table, a massive slab of polished obsidian, reflected the sterile, ambient light of the room, casting long, eerie shadows across their faces. The silence that followed was heavy, laden with the weight of unspoken deceptions and the impending storm that Zeldin had spent hours meticulously crafting.
"Is something wrong, my love?" Zeldin asked, his tone shifting into a smooth, solicitous register that made
