The converted factory had become a home—not just a command center, but a place where people believed in something larger than themselves. Rook walked through the operations floor, his eyes scanning the faces of the operatives who'd come to trust him, the weight of the last seven years pressing down on him like something that had finally found its place.
The war was over. The old systems were gone. The new system was operational, growing, making a difference. But the scars remained—visible in the eyes of the people who'd survived, in the memories of those who hadn't.
Sergei fell into step beside him, his voice low and careful. "The quarterly reports are in. Operations are running smoothly. The networks are cooperating. For the first time in years, things are actually working."
Rook was q
