The silence in the war room was colder and more absolute than any that had come before. Demetri listened, a statue carved from granite and ice, as Nora and Sasha haltingly recounted their week of clandestine investigation, their confrontation with Julian Croft, their well-intentioned, catastrophic failure.
When they finished, the only sound was the low hum of the server banks. Demetri’s expression was not one of fury, but of something far worse: a profound, bone-deep disappointment that felt like a physical blow.
“So,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet, “while I was fighting a war on one front, my own family was opening a secret front behind my back.” His gaze swept over them, and Nora felt stripped bare, her loyalty questioned, her judgment condemned. “You conspired. You lied. You wa
