Chapter: Across the Table
The first real argument about the Dominion happened three days later.
It did not happen inside the command center while alarms rang and drone operators shouted coordinates across the room. It did not happen in the briefing room with everyone standing stiffly in front of a clean map. It certainly did not happen in the western forest, where tension was easier to understand because every shadow could hide teeth, arrows, or watching eyes.
It happened around a conference table inside Atlas Headquarters, where half a dozen officers, analysts, and field leaders stared at the same map and realized that information had become more dangerous than ignorance.
Marcus stood near the projector with his arms folded while the latest intelligence summary rotated across the screen behind him. The western forest, once little more than a green stain on Atlas maps, had changed completely over the past three weeks. Names now filled the blank spaces.
Black Fang.
Stone River.
