(LANCE )
The penthouse conference room hummed with quiet tension under the late afternoon sun. Golden light slanted through the tall windows, casting long rectangles across the polished mahogany table and highlighting the subtle gleam of my ankle monitor as I shifted in my chair. The air carried the rich aroma of fresh coffee, the faint citrus of Ms. Reyes’ hand sanitizer, and the clean linen scent of Eliona’s blouse as she sat beside me, her hand resting lightly on my knee beneath the table.
Ms. Reyes reviewed the latest quarterly compliance report with clinical precision. “Mr. Bistros, the community service programs are meeting targets, but we’ve noted increased activity from a splinter group identifying as the Shadow Reapers. Any association or retaliation by your monitored club membe
