Josiah
The candle on my desk had burned low, its flame guttering under the faint draft creeping through the study window. Shadows danced across the parchment spread before me: battle plans, routes, coded letters. None of them offered comfort.
“Callen,” I said, tapping a finger on the map, “the patrol lines have to move farther east. They’re closing in too tight. If we want to take her, we can’t risk open confrontation with the Fiato twins. We lure her, quietly.”
My gamma leaned forward, his brow furrowed.
“You mean ambush her?”
“I mean capture her,” I replied, voice sharp, final. “Alive. The twins have made her into something dangerous. If we wait any longer, she’ll become unstoppable and out of reach.”
There was a long pause. Callen’s jaw worked, the candlelight carving hard lines
