The basement felt too quiet after a long hunt, the concrete walls swallowed every sound except the faint creak of chains when Adrian shifted in his chair. His wrists were bound, ankles clamped to the floor anchor. I hadn’t spoken since we brought him in, silence bends people faster than pain. He looked up, tired but completely composed, there was no sweat on his brow, no tremor. A man who’d already accepted the shape of the end. His eyes found me like they were reading measurements on a ledger, not gauging judgment. “You can put the gun down, Damian,” he said. “You won’t need it.” Kai’s recorder clicked on. The red light blinked slowly and steadily between us. Behind her, Elena watched the monitor lines that mapped Adrian’s pulse, respiration, micro-muscle shifts, not one deviation, he wasn’t bluffing. “Start talking,” I told him. I kept my voice low, even. Every word had to count. “You thought the Consortium was the problem,” he began. “They were the mask, The real stru
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