Although it looked like he was simply asking a question, everyone in that office — hell, even the walls — knew better. Dr. Voss wasn't requesting anything. He was daring them. Tell me who I work for… or else.
The woman shifted her weight, arms crossed over her chest, staring at him like he was something unpleasant stuck to her boot. Cold, clinical, and disgusted.
"Humans will never know their place," she said, voice flat, words cutting through the sterile air like a scalpel.
Dr. Voss only smiled, calm and smug, like a man who thought he'd played the winning hand before the cards even hit the table. That grin, that reckless little twitch at the corner of his mouth, said everything. He knew exactly how important he was now. How deep he was buried into their plans. A tumor they couldn't excise without killing the host.
The other figure — the man, colder in a quieter way — finally spoke. His voice was low, nearly a whisper, but it carried weight like a slow knife.
