Page 63 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
I’m not angry.
Not yet.
I’malert.
Like a beast sensing another predator just beyond the brush.
And my mind — that cold, sharpened instrument — begins to work.
Quietly.
Systematically.
I don’t lash out.
Not here.
Not with eyes watching, with reputations at stake, with fragile optics hanging in this sterile air.
Instead, I do what I do best.
I let them talk.
Let them circumnavigate the truth with practiced words and gentle insinuations.
Let them whisper about reputations and “appropriate oversight.”
Let them phrase suspicion like a favor.
And I watch.
I learn.
I absorb every glance, every twitch of an eyebrow, every carefully neutral phrase.
Because if he thinks he’s going to outmaneuver me in the boardroom with propaganda and puppetry — he’s about to findout exactly how far I can weave a web ofproofwithout ever lifting a sword.
Not today.
Not yet.
I incline my head — once — to Tidball.
And for the briefest moment, just a fraction of a heartbeat…
I see a flicker in his eyes.
Not guilt.
Not fear.
Butrecognition.
He knows I’m onto him.
And that changes everything.
The accusations in the room echo like the thin scrape of metal against glass.
