Page 89 of Dose

Ezra takes one breath. Then another. “Yes.”

Nikolai studies him. “You do not analyze this thread alone.”

“That will reduce efficiency.”

“Accepted.”

Something passes through Ezra’s face—anger, relief, or both.

“Was it ever implemented?” I ask.

“The files called it theoretical.” He looks at the repeated phrases. “These messages suggest that classification may no longer be accurate.”

It is not an answer to every question in the room. Nikolai does not force it into one.

“Marcus preserves the source material,” he says. “Ezra, Raphael, and I review it after this meeting. The Cascade and Seattle teams receive only what changes their operational risk.”

Compartmented. Supported. Not ignored.

The briefing continues.

We work through transport staging, medical capacity, and the conditions that would cancel either operation. Darius makes one joke about Seattle rain and his hair. Damon tells him to focus. Lucien asks for the unmasked clinicians to rehearse freeze responses rather than assuming frightened children will follow instructions. Raphael requests backup cold cases sized to the high estimate of forty-eight.

When he reaches the Cascade sample protocol, he pulls a chair beside mine.

“Sealed reference only,” he says.

“If the container, label, and storage condition all support safe removal.”

“And if they do not?”

“Photographs and records.”

“Good.”

He stands and squeezes Theon’s uninjured right shoulder on his way past. The new scar on the left is closed, but nobody in this family has forgotten it exists.

By the time the meeting winds down, my throat is dry and my head contains two facilities I have never entered. One is a quiet Texas plant we are not yet certain is quiet. The other holds at least forty-two children and enough armed staff to make every green route on Ezra’s model provisional.

Theon watches me explain why the north service access could solve two exit problems if Dominic verifies it. Pride appears before he hides it. Possession sits beneath it, darker and more familiar.

He does not look as though my competence belongs to him. He looks as though he wants everyone in the room to understand that I do.

I should object to the distinction.

I do not.

As the Chamber empties, I find Ezra staring at a screen that has gone dark from inactivity.

I sit across from him.

“Is that what you weren’t ready to name?” I ask.

His eyes lift to mine. “Part of it.”

I wait, but he does not continue.

“Raphael knows about the sleep and the tremor,” I say. “You don’t have to give me the rest. But Nikolai is right. You should not work this thread alone.”