Howl for Justice
Lucas moves like a rumor, a presence you can only catch if you look at it sideways.
The progress bar sits at 53%, then crawls to 59, then 67—and stops. Not a freeze, but a suspension. The cursor blinks, blue on black, as if daring me to breathe.
A second alert pings at the base of the screen: SERVER ROOM OVERRIDE ATTEMPT, ACCESS DENIED.
I taste the air. It’s sharper now, colder. The wolf in me wants to track, to hunt, to end this, but I keep my body anchored to the chair. I ball one fist on the desk, nails biting into the laminate, and call out: “Lucas.”
He answers, not a shout but a flat report from two doors down: “It’s locked. Hardwired bypass, local only.”
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