Meanwhile, at NSN headquarters.
Logan ends the call and slowly lowers the phone onto his desk. The moment it touches the surface, his expression hardens, his face darkening with a mix of irritation and reluctant respect.
For a few seconds, he says nothing.
Then he turns his gaze toward the man standing by the glass wall overlooking the city, silhouetted against the sprawl of the city far below.
Logan lets out a slow breath, rubbing a thumb along the edge of his desk before lifting his eyes again.
"So you're back in America now, Frank?" he says, voice low, edged with something between annoyance and resignation. "You're not going to push it any further?"
Frank doesn't turn. He stands with both hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, gaze fixed on the vast sprawl of the city beyond the window. The late-afternoon light casts a pale reflection of his face on the glass, calm and steady, edged with something harder beneath.
