Victor didn’t invite me.
When I arrived at the strategy room with the envelope Caleb had given me, the session was already running.
Victor at the head of the table, Evan to his right, two senior intelligence officers I knew by function rather than name, and a territorial liaison I had seen twice before.
The door stood open. I walked through it.
Nobody asked me to leave.
That was new in itself.
Three months ago, my presence in a working strategy session would have produced a managed pause—the specific quiet of a room deciding how to file me. What I got now was a glance from Victor, a slight change from Evan to make room at the table, and the session continuing without a break.
I set the envelope on the table.
“The southern territories contacted. This morning, Caleb gave it to
