Elena's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded.
Luke let out a small, almost amused chuckle. He adjusted his glasses with two fingers, smoothed the front of his jacket, then set his hand flat on the marble table as if anchoring the conversation. His expression was calm, but there was an edge to it that made the room colder.
"The problem is not localized to your state, nor to the borders you patrol," he said, voice steady. "What you've encountered in the desert is one visible thread of a much larger weave. These incidents are occurring across all five continents, not isolated skirmishes, but coordinated patterns. The quasi-demons are only one method. They are a spectacle, a brutal distraction."
He paused and let the words sink in. Elena's jaw loosened; Lily drew in a breath; Silva felt his skin prickle.
