Nine had fallen completely asleep by the time the silence began to dissolve. His breath was warm against my neck, slow and even, one of his hands curled in the fabric of my jacket like it tethered him to something solid.
No one commented again. Even Kol, who had looked ready to stage an intervention two minutes ago, now just kept his mouth shut and his eyes carefully on the datapad in front of him.
"Proceed," I said quietly.
Doctor Serrin cleared her throat. "As I was saying, the Wraith specimens are currently stable but not indefinitely. Preliminary autopsies on two of the deceased show extreme biological strain—rapid degradation of organ tissue, cell apoptosis at an accelerated rate, and premature neural fraying."
"How long?" I asked.
"Twenty to thirty years maximum, depending on environmental conditions. Likely less if they're kept in high-stress facilities."
I pressed my palm gently against Nine's back.
Thirty years, Nyx repeated in a hollow voice. That's it? They were engineered to burn themselves out?
I didn't answer her.
"They're sentient," I said aloud, my voice a little rough. "They feel things."
Doctor Serrin hesitated. "Yes. All results indicate emotional processing. Crude, but undeniably present."
"And we made them anyway."
No one responded.
I tilted my head back against the chair and closed my eyes. We didn't. But I had stood by and done nothing as others did. That line blurred more every day.
Nine shifted slightly, pressing his face deeper against my neck. I held him a little tighter.
"They were made to destroy."
His voice whispered through the bond, slow and half-dreaming. "But they don't want to destroy. They want to be held. I can feel it."
I swallowed hard.
"They're not weapons," I said quietly. "They're living beings. And we gave them pain and cages."
Kol was watching me again, expression unreadable.
Commander Thorne crossed his arms. "If you don't want them terminated—"
"I don't."
"Then where are we putting them?"
There was a moment of silence.
I exhaled and reached for the pad on the table, flipping through screens. "The Supreme Leader had holdings outside of mainland jurisdiction. Private islands, fortresses, some barely charted. One of them has a weather-controlled dome and a large terrain range. It can sustain a self-contained ecosystem. Enough to house all the Wraiths."
"You want to give them paradise," someone muttered under their breath.
"I want to give them peace," I said flatly. "Or at least a place where they're not scared to breathe. You'll draft the transport protocols and reassign the handlers. I want people who are trained in behavioral compassion, not containment."
"You're going to be seen as soft."
"Then let them see me as soft," I said. "Right before they remember I was the one who burned this place to the ground."
Nyx chuckled darkly in my head. That's my girl.
Nine stirred again, murmuring something soft I couldn't quite catch. His hand reached up and clutched the lapel of my coat.
"I'll handle the logistics," I said. "Dismissed."
Chairs scraped against the floor as they began to file out, one by one. No one said anything else. Not about Nine, not about the Wraiths. But I could feel the unease crackling behind them like static. They didn't know what to make of me anymore.
Good.
Let them squirm.
Let them wonder what I'd do next.
Nine didn't stir as the room emptied, still curled against me, breathing steady and soft. I stroked my fingers down the back of his head.
"Don't worry," I whispered. "I'll give them a home. Just like I'm trying to give you one."