POV: Leo
The laptop screen cracked down the middle when Leo's fist hit the table.
He hadn't meant to do it. That was the part that bothered him most. He had spent fifteen years building a version of himself that did not react without deciding to first. Every move deliberate. Every response chosen. The fist on the table was neither of those things. It had come from somewhere lower and faster than thought.
He stared at the cracked screen. The map on it was still partially visible through the fracture line, two blinking red dots on a digital grid of the city, and those two dots were the reason his fist had moved before his brain did.
He straightened up. Rolled his neck once. Pulled out the backup tablet from the bag on the floor.
