For a long moment, no one moved.
The door had already swung shut behind Ethan, but the echo of his voice still lingered in the room—sharp, poisonous, clinging to the air like smoke.
You might want to ask him what really happened to Dr. Beckett.
The room felt too still. Too heavy.
Damien didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at anyone.
But Maya felt it—the subtle shift beneath the surface. Like a beast straining against its chains, growling just behind his eyes.
The silence stretched.
Harper was the first to break it, her tone low, uncomfortable. “Well… that was intense.”
No one laughed.
Ashcroft’s gaze remained fixed on Damien, unreadable. “You want me to handle him?”
It took Damien a heartbeat too long to answer.
“No.” His voice was calm—too calm. “He’s already handled.
