The device Iris left behind was smaller than my palm.
It sat on the table between Alexander and me like a dare—matte black, no markings, no indication of what it held except the promise in Iris’s voice. Everything they’ve been monitoring.
I didn’t touch it right away.
Alexander did.
He picked it up with careful fingers, turning it once, twice, as if the weight alone could tell him what kind of damage it could do.
“They’re not amateurs,” he said. “Anyone who plants something like this expects it to be found.”
“Or expects us to be too afraid to use it,” I replied.
He looked at me. “Are you?”
I surprised myself by answering immediately. “No.”
That was the truth. Whatever fear still lived in me had reorganized itself into something colder, sharper. Fear was a luxury for people who bel
