Negotiations took two sessions, because Maya believed in mercy but not enough to waste an afternoon.The first session was outside the perimeter, at a folding table Carol described as “structurally emotional.” The second was inside the loading bay, because it rained and Maya refused to let weather become a third negotiator.Marcus Webb arrived with two people, one notebook, and no visible attempt to dominate the room.This was, frankly, rude.Maya had prepared for loud. She had prepared for charm. She had prepared for the kind of man who mistook volume for strategy and thought leaning back in a chair counted as policy.Marcus did none of that.He listened.He asked precise questions.He conceded small points early, held difficult ones without bluster, and never once pretended his people were easier than they were.“We have hunters,” he said. “Good ones. They won’t like being told when
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