Savina edged nearer to the war board, her gaze tracing the snarled web of lines and names etched across its surface. She held her silence at first, letting the weight of anticipation thicken the air around them.

  Her attention snagged on a single slender bck line—inked by hand, not rendered in pixels—tying two mid-level executives to an obscure journalist tucked away in Lisbon.

  "Why this one?" she inquired, her voice cutting through the hush.

  The chamber grew utterly still.

  Noa blinked, her arms unfolding with a subtle shift, as though the gesture had escaped her notice. Marisol arched an eyebrow, her stance honing with intrigue.

  He advanced a step. "You spotted that swiftly."

  Savina lifted a shoulder, her focus unwavering on the board. "You marked it in blue, but only faintly. The rest gleamed in red or orange—double-checked, bolstered." Her fingertip grazed the name. "This one's idle."

  She pivoted just enough for them to catch the glint in her eye.

  "So he's either balst... or a phantom rigged to ignite."

  For the first time, he allowed a smile—neither harsh nor tender. Merely appreciative.

  "Lisbon serves as a release point," he murmured. "That strand connects to untapped influence."

  Savina cocked her head. "Then why hold back?"

  "Because patience reveals much," he answered steadily. "It shows who spots the fuse before the fme catches."

  Marisol appraised Savina with a deliberate sweep, her mouth quirking in quiet endorsement. "She perceives beyond mere fmes."

  Noa's stare rested on her—gentle yet piercing. "She's no novice. Not if she cuts through the cmor."

  Savina turned fully toward him at st. No coyness. No rebellion. Pure provocation.

  "What more are you concealing?"

  He held her gaze, steady and unflinching.

  "Plenty to discern if you're truly observing... or merely gncing."

  A denser quiet enveloped the space.

  Marisol's eyes wandered from the board to Savina, her grin subtle yet distinct.

  "Well," she whispered, ced with mirth, "that settles one inquiry."

  Noa offered no grin. Her scrutiny lingered on Savina, contemptive.

  "Indeed," she replied softly. "It does."

  Savina refrained from probing further.

  She had no cause.