The gag order did not simply silence me; it transformed the very nature of my existence. The four walls of my cell, which had once felt like a command center, now felt like the padded walls of a tomb. The silence was no longer empty; it was enforced, a heavy, smothering blanket thrown over my voice.
Every rustle of my jumpsuit, every tap of a guard's boot in the hallway, was a reminder that I was now a spectator in my own life, my story being rewritten in newspapers I would never see, by voices dedicated to my destruction. The "People's Luna" was a ghost, a memory the pack machinery was working diligently to erase.
For two days, I heard nothing. The world outside had become a distant rumor. I replayed the grim finality in Falon's voice, the cold efficiency of Elara's legal assessment. They had maneuvered me into a checkmate. My only move was to sit, and wait, and trust. It was the most difficult strategy of all.
