Chapter 2 — Protocol Zero

Our apartment felt unbearably small after the opulence of The Ritz. At two in the morning, under a single overhead bulb, the living room felt like a flimsy bunker waiting for an artillery strike.

Caleb locked the deadbolt and loosened his tie. I stood in the center of the room, still in uniform, adrenaline masking my crushing exhaustion.

Before I could demand answers about the call he’d made at the door, a thunderous pounding shook it.

Caleb checked the peephole and unbolted it without hesitation.

Celeste stood in our dim hallway, changed into a stark white power suit. She was flanked not by her usual private security but by a man in a crisp military uniform — a Colonel I recognized from the Judge Advocate General’s Corps.

“What is this, Mother?” Caleb demanded, blocking the threshold.