The night of the false shipment arrives without spectacle.
No storm.
No unnatural silence.
Just the ordinary weight of darkness settling over the territory like it always does.
I move through evening as if nothing unusual sits beneath it.
I eat with the others at the communal table.
I correct a minor training dispute in the yard.
I check a patrol log and nod once at an irregular rotation that has already been accounted for.
Routine.
Predictable.
Calm.
When I return to my room, I close the door gently and let the illusion of rest begin.
Lights dim.
Footsteps in the corridor thin.
Voices fade to low murmurs.
I lie on the bed without removing boots.
I do not sleep.
Layla hums steady beneath my skin.
Waiting.
After an hour, I rise quietly.
Brush teeth late.
Not because I n
