By Wednesday, the waiting ended.
Not all at once.
Not with shouting.
Not with some dramatic summons that made the whole building stop and stare.
The firm was too polished for that.
No.
It ended the way places like this always ended things; neatly, quietly, with enough formality to make pain look administrative.
Ronda knew before she was told.
She felt it in the way Nathan avoided looking at her for too long that morning.
In the unusual number of messages moving between units.
In the way Anita kept glancing toward the door as if bracing for something she could not yet name.
Even the air in the training room felt strained. Not loud. Just tight, like a shirt pulled too hard across the shoulders.
Ronda wrote the date at the top of her page and stared at it for a second longer than
