It was morning already.
A faint hum came from the projector. The large digital screen illuminated the otherwise dim room, displaying a slideshow of high-resolution surveillance images. Gavin sat at one end of the leather sectional, legs crossed, a coffee mug balanced neatly on one knee, looking as if he were auditing a tax return.
Rowan stood beside the control panel, remote in hand, flicking through the images with an air of casual mischief, probably thinking of a witty caption for each. Milo leaned against the side table, arms crossed, his face unreadable, though his eyes darted toward Hades more than once, a curious glint in their depths.
Hades hadn't spoken in a while.
He sat back in his chair, watching. Silent. Still. Brooding, as always.
Then—he rose.
Fluidly. Slowly. Like a glacier shifting, each movement deliberate and powerful.
He walked toward the screen.
