Reports, recordings, department reviews, federal interviews, medical documentation, and the long machinery of consequence would come later.
For that moment, I let the silence sit where his laughter had been.
Linda was crying on the floor, but I did not look away from Silas.
Not because I hated him.
Because I was done shrinking for people who confused mercy with permission.
The lead voice came from the doorway.
“General Thorne, are you injured?”
I answered with the same calm I had used under the gun.
“No.”
Silas flinched at the title.
That, more than the vehicles, more than the boots, more than the weapons trained low and steady, was what broke the last piece of his performance.
He had called me a secretary.
He had called me nothing.
The room had heard him.
The country had heard him.
And now the room answered back.
