The message doesn’t leave the room.
It stays with us.
Not on the screen, not in the systems, not even in the files that get locked down and mirrored and buried under protocol. It lingers in the air itself, threading through silence and exhaustion, settling into the space between Damian and me long after the task force room empties out for the night.
The one you loved most was always the key.
Damian doesn’t repeat it aloud. He doesn’t need to. The words have already lodged themselves into his thinking, reshaping the angles of the board he’s been staring at for days. I can see it happening in real time. The way his focus narrows. The way old assumptions peel away without ceremony.
By morning, he knows where to look next.
We don’t sleep so much as pause. At some point, the city fades in
