The control room was quiet, but heavy with the hum of machinery and the faint flicker of monitors lining the walls. The blue light cast an eerie glow over Luke’s face as he stood by the console, his arms folded, expression tense. Veronica sat across from him, Damien’s mother, sharp and unwavering as ever, her silver hair tied in a neat knot and her eyes as cold as the metal walls that surrounded them.
Luke took a deep breath. “Auntie.. I asked you to come here because we need to talk,” he began, his tone deliberate, cautious.
"What's about Damien?"
"It isn't about him.. I wanted to talk about Amara.”
Veronica raised an eyebrow, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest.
“You mean the woman your commander refuses to execute even after betraying him?” she said dryly.
“What is there to
