The throbbing pain behind his left eye had become a familiar companion, a metronome ticking out the cost of his victories. He worked now in the light-diminished radiance of his office, the tinted lenses of his glasses a shield against the photophobia the System had sold him. Sarah Blake was part of the Haven ecosystem now, a reserved, observant figure who had earned a measure of trust through sheer, gritty ability. She asked nothing of his poor health; she simply documented the fruits of his work and the scars of Crane's war.
It was she who had requested the meeting behind closed doors, her usual aplomb giving way to a tightly coiled sense of urgency. She entered his office, slipping the door shut quietly behind her. In her hand was not her tablet, but a sealed, non-electronic evidence ca
