AISLYNSteel rings against stone.

The sound snaps me fully awake long before my thoughts catch up.

I am already moving by the time I register what it is, raised voices echoing down the western corridor, sharp enough to cut through the den’s morning hush. Not argument yet. Confrontation. The kind that carries weight, history, and very little restraint.

I pull on my boots and step into the corridor just as a second sound follows, Elliot’s voice, low, controlled, unmistakably irritated.

I slow ...