The room beyond was cold enough to slow pheromone decay and quiet enough to make every machine sound deliberate.
Andrea Vale lay behind transparent containment glass, strapped to a medical frame tilted just enough to keep his lungs working without comfort. Suppression seals circled his throat, wrists, chest, and the base of his skull. His skin had gone gray beneath the clinical light. Faint black-silver traces remained under his veins where Nero had torn power out of him by the roots.
He looked smaller.
Thomas felt nothing clean about his satisfaction.
Andrea's eyes opened slowly.
For a moment, he did not focus.
Then he saw Thomas.
Fear arrived before hatred.
Thomas smiled.
"Lancaster," Andrea rasped.
"Vale."
Andrea swallowed, throat working against the suppression collar. "Come to kill me?"
"No."
Hope flickered in those lightless blue eyes.
Thomas let him have it for one breath.
"Not yet."
The hope died exactly as expected.
