Lena's POV
I didn't move.
The figure at the end of the corridor was completely still — the particular stillness of someone who had been caught mid-action and was now calculating. Not running. Not advancing. Just standing in the low light with the metallic object in their hand and watching me with the focused attention of someone deciding what the next thirty seconds required.
My heart was doing something very loud in my chest.
I kept my face neutral.
The corridor was long, twelve feet between us, maybe fifteen. Damian's office door behind me, still closed. If I turned to open it the figure would have time to move. If I called out they'd know exactly what I was doing.
I looked at the figure.
Looked at the object in their hand.
Not a gun — wrong shape, too flat. A phone. Something el
