The safehouse held its breath.
Outside, the forest was a low, constant susurration of leaves and distant highway hum. Inside, the map table glowed under a thin halo of light. Coffee had long gone cold; empty cups lined one side like a constellation of fatigue. The team had been awake for hours planning, second-guessing, re-routing contingencies until the edges of their eyes stung.
Now, for the first time since the files landed on Isabelle's lap, there was a few hours of stillness. Alison had gone to run an obscure decryption routine that might reveal where the central node patched to Vale's outer logistics. Liam had retreated to the armory to double-check gear. The drivers checked tires and comms. The hum in the house was efficient, businesslike people doing the tasks that would let the others sleep.
