“Nothing that matters,” I say.
The words sit between us like a sigil just drawn—glowing, binding, impossible to take back.
Orion doesn’t move away from behind me. Not touching. Just close enough that the heat of him brushes my shoulder, grounding and distracting at the same time. Silas watches from the table, eyes sharp, reading everything I didn’t say.
“Define ‘matters,’” Silas says.
I don’t hesitate. “My mind. My choices. My ability to speak truth when it counts.”
Orion’s voice drops. “Good. Because that’s exactly what they’ll target.”
He steps around into my line of sight and sets a thin stack of parchment on the table. Each page is marked with layered sigils, witness lines, and Concord seals.
“Simulation,” he says. “These are reconstructed contracts used in coercive custody case
