Page 121 of In the Dark of the Past

No hesitation. Only soft thuds followed.

Only when the last screen went dark did I let myself breathe.

“In the back, now,” I said. “All of you.”

They filed into the back room we’d used the other night, bumping shoulders, crowding around a table. Atlas took up a position near the door. I took the wall. River stood close enough to me that her arm brushed mine.

Andra crossed her arms. “Your text said ‘EMERGENCY’ in all caps. From you, that means something exploded. What changed?”

I didn’t sugarcoat it.

“Grant filed emergency injunctions this afternoon. He’s citing the state oversight complaint and asking for a freeze on all investigative activity by my department.” I watched their faces process that. “Which means Atlas and I can’t touch this case officially until the board clears us—on a timeline Grant controls.”

A ripple moved through the room.

“He’s trying to freeze you in place,” Autumn said.

“While he spends tonight cleaning up everything the AG hasn’t handled yet,” River finished. “Which is why we’re here and not at the station.”

“What does the AG have exactly?” Nivea asked.

“The annex records. About thirty-seven years of Benevolence Fund directives, transfer authorizations, and the target list.” I paused. “A cooperating corroborating witness. And a statement from the DA’s office.”

The room went still.

Libby said quietly, “Sean?”

“He called this afternoon with a Portland lawyer. Full cooperation.”

Nobody cheered. It wasn’t that kind of news. Libby exhaled, mumbling something slow and complicated. Autumn stopped writing for a moment, and Cade looked at the floor.

“Good,” Myra said. The word doing a lot of work.

“The problem,” I continued, “is that Grant still has someone in my department. Someone who tipped him off the moment we left for Stonybrooke the other night. We don’t know who. Which means, we can’t use any official channels without risking everything we’ve built.” I looked around the room. “You guys can. You’re civilians. You’re not named in the injunctions. You’re the only team that can move freely right now.”

Cade slammed his palm on the file cabinet. “So, what’s the plan? You didn’t call us here to explain paperwork.”

“The plan is to fight,” I said. “Cleanly, deliberately, and all at once. Three operations running parallel.”

I laid it out. Team One would be Autumn and Nivea, mapping the Watcher network. Who’s connected to whom, physical locations, communication patterns. Team Two would be Myra and Rand, following the money. The MR-7 transfers, the four unidentified entities Libby’s financials had flagged. Team Three would be Libby and Andra. Archival cross-references and media containment. Nothing went public until we had leverage that couldn’t be buried.

Assignments fell into place like puzzle pieces. They were civilians. They shouldn’t have been anywhere near this war, but they stepped into their roles without blinking.

Before I could warn them again of the danger, Atlas’s phone buzzed against the table.

We all froze.

He glanced down, and his jaw clenched. “You didn’t tell anyone we were here, right?”

Cade looked offended. “You saw me clear out the place last minute, and you locked the front door.”

Atlas turned the screen outward.

It was a grainy trail-cam still. Rain in a dark alley. The loading dock behind the Hollow Oak. And standing dead center in a hood, a mask, and red painted eyes was a Watcher.

“When?” I asked.

“Two minutes ago.”