THE SECOND SET
The numbers didn't lie. They never did.
Damon sat in the strategy room, the transmission logs spread across three screens, and felt the cold certainty settle in his chest that he had been fighting the wrong war.
Silas was gone, Silas was Garrett's, Silas was the visible threat that had consumed their attention for weeks. But these patterns—these ancient, patient, invisible patterns—predated Silas by years. Ran parallel to him without touching him. Used different methods, different codes, different everything.
Two traitors. Not one with backup. Two separate operations, different handlers, different purposes, sharing only the territory they had both made hunting ground.
"The encryption," Ronan said, his voice controlled but the tension visible in his posture, the professional assessment masking personal failure. "It's not Crescent standard. Not Garrett's methods. This is older. More sophisticated. Something that predates his rise to power."
