The cold fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh white shadows across the rectangular steel table. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and tension. A row of digital cameras blinked red along the wall, recording every breath taken inside the room.
Mayor Everlyn Grace sat perfectly still in her tailored grey suit, her copper hair tied neatly in a bun. Despite the fatigue beneath her eyes, her expression remained composed — unflinching even under the scrutiny of nearly a dozen eyes.
Across from her sat Captain Miles, a square-jawed officer from the national military, his tone clipped and formal. Beside him, a police investigator tapped on a tablet, scrolling through satellite footage and reports. But the real weight in the room came from the four seated figures at the far end — representatives of the Super Families and two from the World-Class Houses.
They didn't wear uniforms. They didn't need to. Their presence alone was enough to make even the air itself feel heavy.
