“Removal doesn’t always mean death.”
That’s the first thing my intelligence lead says when I demand clarity.
We’re in a secure room with no windows, no devices, and no illusion that privacy is permanent. The lights hum faintly overhead. Somewhere beneath us, servers breathe.
“Explain,” I say.
He doesn’t rush.
“That’s the problem,” he replies. “Neither do they.”
I keep my voice even. “What does removal mean in their context?”
He folds his hands on the table. “Discrediting. Isolation. Legal paralysis. Financial attrition. Sometimes exile. Sometimes… disappearance that looks voluntary.”
I nod once.
“Which option am I?” I ask.
He hesitates.
“That depends,” he says carefully, “on how much resistance you present.”
I almost laugh.
Lucien Vale doesn’t need to kill me.
He just needs t
