Something larger.
The memory card was secured.
So was Cross’s phone.
His access badge.
His office.
By noon, the enclosure evaluation had become a formal investigative scene.
The dogs stayed with me.
Nobody ordered them away.
Nobody tried.
At 1430, Ava—no, I caught myself.
There was no Ava here.
That was another life, another story.
Here there were three dogs lying around my boots and one dead handler whose voice was about to return from eight months of silence.
They played the recording in a secure room.
I was allowed to hear only the relevant section because of the investigation.
Marcus’s breathing filled the speakers first.
Heavy.
Controlled.
Then static.
“Control, route package is wrong.”
A pause.
“Repeat, route package is wrong.”
Another voice answered.
Cross.
“Proceed as amended.”
Marcus again.
“Negative. No friendlies at Site Baker.”
Cross: “Proceed.”
Then Marcus’s voice changed.
Not frightened.
Certain.
“Home compromised.”
Ares stood beside the speaker.
His entire body locked.
On the recording, Cross said, “Dole, follow your order.”
Then Marcus spoke the line that changed everything.
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