LAYLA’S POV
The loaded air from last night is still humming under my skin when the opening I’ve been waiting for finally arrives.
Megan is in a council session. I can see her through the glass panel beside the door – seated, active discussion, Elder Redbone talking at length about something that has her nodding with practiced attention. The session is running long. At least thirty more minutes based on Redbone’s pace, and Redbone never speaks for less than forty.
The back corridor is empty. Megan’s office door is closed but unlocked.
I go.
The office is arranged the way power arranges itself when it doesn’t fully belong to you – everything positioned for authority, nothing personal on the walls except framed photographs that perform personhood rather than reveal it. Megan standing wit
