The room felt smaller with the Sanctions Division in it. Not physically, but in the way that mattered. The air itself seemed to compress around Agent Karras and his two silent shadows, as if reality recognized these people as apex predators and adjusted accordingly.
I'd met men like him in my previous life. The kind who could smile while signing execution orders. The kind who believed, truly believed, that the ends justified any means necessary.
Dangerous people. My favorite kind to outmaneuver.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kuzmina." Karras gestured toward the door with the casual authority of someone who never expected to be refused. "We appreciate your concern for your son, but this is a classified debriefing. National security protocols require—"
"He's seventeen." Luka's voice could have stripped paint. "And he's been unconscious for two days. Whatever protocols you're hiding behind can wait until—"
"Luka."
