Raven sat at the long war-room table, overhead lights carving hard shadows across maps still bleeding red from the depot loss. The room stank of gun oil, fresh coffee, and that metallic tension that never left these walls no matter how many times they aired the place out.
All seven Guardians were there. Gabriel's chair sat empty at the end, but the gap only made everyone sit straighter, jaws tighter, shoulders squared like they were trying to fill the space he left behind. She had looked at that chair when she first walked in and then stopped looking at it. Some things you acknowledged once.
Vincent stood at the head. Black suit sharp enough to cut. Hair loose over his shoulders for once. The scar on his temple caught the light for half a second before it slid back into shadow.
He didn't raise his voice. He never did.
"The Council didn't vote," he said. Words dropped like stones into still water. "Caruso's stalling. We need to be ready for whatever comes next."
