Page 102 of Aaron

Public pressure.

Control.

“They’re flipping the board,” I say. “Not hiding anymore. Owning it.”

Behind me, one of the analysts mutters, “This is coordinated.”

“No,” I correct quietly.

“This is orchestration.”

Aaron doesn’t speak.

I don’t need to see him to know what that means.

Lark’s voice comes in—soft, steady, too calm for what’s happening.

“They’re not trying to kill me.”

I lean back slightly, eyes still locked on the screens.

“No,” I say. “They’re trying to define you.”

“And if they win that…” she says.

I finish it for her.

“You become radioactive.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Final.

“And you can’t protect someone the world thinks is the villain,” she says.

That’s the real attack.

Not bullets.

Perception.

I glance at the screen again—watching her name spread, multiply, distort.

Then Aaron speaks.

Two words.

Low.

Certain.

“Watch me.”

And yeah—

That’s exactly what he’s about to do.