The tension in the West Wing was thick enough to cut with a knife as the Elders and their families were escorted to their temporary prison. Several attendees from the meeting attempted to voice their objections, but the Guardians remained stone-faced and silent, their duty clear.
The main living room filled with five families while others dispersed to follow their Elder relatives to private quarters. These rooms served as overnight accommodations during late council sessions or early morning emergencies, but now they felt more like gilded cages.
Elder Dawn moved with purpose toward the upper floor, her father trailing close behind. The weight of discovery pressed against her chest. She knew the evidence they'd found came from her room, but the memory of whether she'd been careless enough to leave it exposed remained frustratingly unclear.
"Dawn, what the hell is happening here?" Her father's voice was barely above a whisper as he secured the door behind them.
