The rail car groaned with every gust of wind outside, its rusting frame protesting like an old beast refusing to die. Inside, the four of us sat in uneasy silence, each nursing wounds invisible and otherwise.
Adrian broke it first. “Lucien’s too calculated to risk himself like that. Tonight wasn’t an ambush—it was theater.”
“Staged,” Kael agreed, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the sliver of moon outside. “He wanted us rattled. Wanted us to see those files, hear his little speech.”
“He wanted us to doubt each other,” Nora said softly, finally setting her folder down. Her hand lingered on the cover, knuckles pale. “That’s how the Blacklist works. They don’t just kill—they hollow you out from the inside until you’re not even fighting the right enemy anymore.”
Her words landed heavy.
Adrian’
