🖤 Stella 🖤 “Did he die?” I asked looking at Marcus but he didn’t answer immediately, which told me everything before the words did. Marcus had worked for me for six years and he had learned, in those six years, that hesitation cost more than bad news, that the thing I punished was the pause, not the content, because the pause meant he was deciding how to say something rather than simply saying it, which meant he thought the saying of it required management, which meant he thought I required management, which I did not. “No, boss,” he said. “He survived.” I stood at the window of my office, my real office, not the building I’d dressed up for the Fisher-Hale team to find, but this one, the one that didn’t exist in any intelligence file that hadn’t come through Daniel first and looked out at the city that had been mine for eight years without anyone knowing it was mine, and felt something that wasn’t quite frustration and wasn’t quite amusement and lived somewhere between the two. “
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