The black screen of the television seemed to stare back at us like an open grave long after Gillian's voice faded into the rafters. The static hum in the speakers died, leaving behind a silence so thick and suffocating it made the crackle of the fireplace sound like gunfire.
"He's watching us," Marcus spat, his hand shaking slightly as he finally lowered his sidearm. His rugged face was twisted in a mixture of rage and raw disbelief. "He knows the patrol shifts. He knows what we're saying inside our own walls. Asher, this isn't just a hack. We've got a ghost in the machine."
