Chapter 91. Flashpoint

Three blocks away, Knox watched the last image of Harper flicker off the screen.

The Council had cut the live feed, but the raw transmission always leaked. The truth had ways of slipping through firewalls—especially when you gave it a reason.

Harper had stood at the center of the audit chamber, black-suited, calm, precise. Her voice had held the same voltage he remembered from when they first met—before she learned how to turn it into a blade.

He stared at the blank screen, fists clenched in the pockets of his coat.

“She trusted them too much,” he muttered.

Lucien stood beside him, silent until now. “She didn’t trust them,” he said. “She trusted what they could’ve been.”

Knox turned, tension riding just beneath his skin. “Then maybe that ideal needs to burn too. Take the whole structure by the throat and start over.”

Lucien’s eyes flicked toward him. “She has to rise alone first. If we help too early, they’ll say she never did.”

He was