The patrol routes were already up on the screen when Gabriel asked for her opinion.
Not Vincent's opinion. Hers.
"Defense positioning on the east warehouses," Gabriel said, pointing at the layout with a broad finger. "What would you change?"
The question landed in the middle of the war room like a stone dropped in still water. Raven felt the ripple of it — the Guardians going quiet, the subtle shift of eyes. A week ago no one at this table would have directed a tactical question at her without Vincent prompting it first. A week ago she had been something to be managed, tolerated, watched the way you watched a weapon that might still be loaded. Today Gabriel had simply turned to her, the same way he would have turned to Dante or Sebastian, and asked. No preamble. No glance at Vincent for permission.
