Nobody spoke for several long moments after Casey turned the monitor toward us because seeing my current address inside an encrypted Asset Program file felt different from every discovery we had made before.
Old records belonged to history. This didn't. Someone had updated that profile recently.
Someone had known exactly where I lived long after the Architect had been arrested and the room that had been buzzing with quiet determination only moments earlier suddenly felt unnaturally still.
I stared at the screen while dozens of questions fought for space inside my mind.
How long had they been watching? Who had been responsible? How close had they come without any of us noticing?
Casey slowly copied the recovered file onto several encrypted drives before disconnecting the forgotten serv
