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“Well done,” I said as soon as I closed the door to Director Marlow’s office.

“Thank you,” Kara replied with a tentative note. “I know it was a risk, but I could see this going nowhere otherwise, and then where would you be with my father?”

I let my voice drop to a murmur, watching over Kara’s shoulder as Natalie approached. “I think you played it perfectly.”

Kara gave me a wide smile. “Thank you, M—”

“Natalie,” I said loudly, cutting her off. “Director Marlow will be putting a memo out within the hour, but the short version is you’ve been assigned as my liaison.”

“I’m aware, Mr. Sullivan.” She held up her tablet. “She’s already pinged me.”

“Excellent, she works fast. Apologies for the disruption of your usual duties. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Working for the new Assistant Director of Oversight? Sounds like a promotion to me.” She gave a smile.

“Then let’s make a start. I want to meet Firth again, but after he’s processed Director Marlow’s memo. Schedule something for tomorrow?”

“Yes, Assistant Director.” Natalie made a note on her tablet.

“That’ll get old fast. Now that we’re working together, please call me Xan.

I’m going to need somewhere to work and a summary of current policies and approaches.

” I made a face at the thought of all that paperwork.

“I want a briefing on the current civil unrest, and an update on the Bay Uni situation.”

“That’s fine. I can arrange some back-to-back meetings with key personnel to bring you up to speed.

” She swiped up a calendar, adding the availability of other senior staff.

“I can schedule meetings from eleven, that will give us enough time to get you settled in an office. There’s one on the third floor you can use. ”

We followed her back into the elevator and down to the third floor, an open-plan space filled with desks in cubicles. Offices lined both sides, partially opaque privacy glass hinting at what was within.

“This one is yours,” Natalie said, tapping her badge against the door. It slid open with a faint hiss. “Just temporarily, until I can get you settled somewhere more suited to your new role.”

I stepped inside. The room smelled like industrial carpet cleaner and air freshener, but it was a good size, with two desks opposite one another, a couch, and a table for four between.

Three windows overlooked a gray courtyard, where some agents were smoking around a shelter, huddled in their coats in the cold.

Kara sat at one of the desks like she’d always worked there.

Natalie powered up the computer on the other, typing efficiently.

“I’m setting you up with a basic systems login.

Email, calendar, some file space. I know you want to get started, so I’ll save you from the HR apps until we have more time.

I’ll email you the login details.” She walked to where Kara sat, leaning past her to get her set up too.

That done, she went back to her tablet. “I’m sending you some meeting invites, along with the latest on Bay Uni and the protest spikes … though the information’s fluid.”

“I imagine it is,” I said, already dreading the shapeless mass of euphemism and omission I’d have to read.

“My number’s on the emails, or dial extension five-two-eight. If that’s all for now, I’m going to get myself moved down to the neighboring office, so I can be available when you need me.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Thank you, Natalie.”

She gave me a smile and left, the door whispering shut behind her.

I flopped into my chair with a sigh.

“Something wrong?” Kara asked.

“Just not loving this, and I haven’t even started.”

“I’m excited about it. It’s almost like having a real job.”

I angled my chair so my monitor wasn’t blocking my view of her. “Have you ever had a real job?”

“Yes … several. Most of them very brief.” She clicked her mouse, eyes on the screen. “I spent six months as a gallery assistant, because I wanted to try something ‘cultured’. It was dull. Then a few roles at my father’s companies, trying to pretend I was interested in structured finance.”

“Which you don’t like,” I said, remembering.

She paused, looking away from her screen and meeting my eyes. “Actually, it wasn’t the finance I hated, it was the culture. I was meant to learn the ropes, impress the board, inherit an empire. Mostly I learned how many ways people can say ‘not like that’ without using those words.”

My lips twitched. “And did you impress the board?”

“I wore expensive shoes and didn’t cry in meetings. That seemed to exceed expectations.”

“Uh-huh. Learn anything useful?”

She tipped her head. “How to survive a room full of men who think you’re ornamental. How to speak in meetings without being interrupted. How to tell when a deal’s already done before you sit down.”

I gave her a look. “That’s useful.”

She shrugged. “I also did a summer at a nonprofit once. It was all very earnest.”

I raised a brow. “And?”

“Misguided enthusiasm,” she said, lightly. “They wanted passion—preferably demonstrated through teaching home economics. And, well … you know how I feel about cooking.”

“So you’ve spent your life circling the machinery of power: high society, legacy corporations, elite academia.

Some time as a good daughter, hint of a stylish rebel, an idealist and even a quiet ideologue.

” I quirked a smile. “I’d never have guessed that from a succubus Halloween costume and soft-rose lipstick. ”

“You make it sound more deliberate than it was.” She cocked her head at me. “You remembered my lipstick color?”

“I think most of that night is indelibly engraved in my memory.”

“My favorite part was cleaning your bar,” she said dryly. But it made me wonder how honest she was being.

We didn’t talk much after that, both burying ourselves in the reams of information Natalie had given us in a data dump.

I skimmed half a dozen briefings without absorbing more than a paragraph at a time, partly due to the flurry of messages from various departments welcoming me on board amid half-veiled attempts to figure out what I represented.

An hour later, Natalie reappeared at the door with a polite knock.

“Your eleven o’clock, Assistant Director,” she said formally. “Vera Kline, Head of Media Liaison. She’s here with an update on public unrest.”

“Thank you Natalie, show her in,” I said, grateful for the interruption, and walked around my desk to the small meeting table in the center of the room.

Kline was a brisk-looking woman in her late forties, dressed in a dark tailored suit, every detail immaculate—right down to the makeup trying to cover the shadows under her eyes.

She entered with a tablet hugged to her chest and a practiced smile that faltered slightly when she saw me—not hostile, but cautious, measuring.

“Ms. Kline,” I said, offering a hand.

“Assistant Director.” Her shake was firm. “Please call me Vera.”

“Xan.” I gestured to the seat across from mine. “Please.”

She sat, setting the tablet down and tapping it awake, her eyes flicking to Kara as she joined us. “Your appointment has caused a stir,” she began, more with curiosity and a hint of amusement than objection. “The internal announcement only landed an hour ago, so I assume I’m first on your list?”

“You are,” I said mildly. “With just the update I’m looking for—I hope?”

“Yes, I’ve got it,” she said, tapping open a document on her tablet.

“But may I just say how glad I am you’re here, because we’ve been flying blind.

The public’s already volatile after Bay University, and now there’s spillover unrest in half a dozen major metro areas.

Protest groups are forming faster than we can track them, and a petition calling for SPAR to be disbanded hit fifty thousand signatures overnight. ”

I leaned back, letting her finish.

“I’ve got legacy media hammering us for comment, and three different influencers threatening to leak unverified eyewitness footage unless we give them exclusive interviews.

I need oversight. I need messaging direction.

I need someone who can say no with teeth.

” She paused, tone softening. “Wasn’t expecting a miracle, but someone who knows which way is up would help. ”

“Up’s a matter of perspective,” I said. “But let’s take a look.”

*

The office had fallen quiet. The last of my meetings had wrapped over an hour ago, and most of the building had emptied—just the hum of the lights and the faint buzz of cleaning crews somewhere down the hall.

Outside the tinted windows, dusk had deepened into that indistinct gray where the city blurred into its own reflection.

I sat at my desk, weary to the bone, reading through a summary Ian Harrow, the Chief of Staff, had forwarded after our afternoon session.

It was clipped and exacting, every line calibrated for plausible deniability.

He’d laid out the power blocs, the infighting, and the logistical sinkholes without ever quite saying anything was wrong.

Kara came up behind me without a word and began to knead the tension out of my shoulders, her fingers working under the collar of my shirt like she’d done it a hundred times before.

I let my head tip forward slightly. “That feels great.”

“You looked like you needed it.”

“Yeah. Long-ass day.” I gave up, chucking the tablet Natalie had found for me onto the desk.

“Nothing useful?”

“Executive summary of a shitshow.” I closed my eyes, relaxing into her touch. “First day finally over. What’s your takeaways?”

She hummed thoughtfully, thumbs pressing either side of the back of my neck.

“Harrow is loyal to the institution more than Marlow. Duvall isn’t as smart as he wants you to think, and will probably hide in Records and Archives.

Kline’s drowning and knows it. Reyes doesn’t trust anyone in a suit, and doesn’t know what to make of you because you weren’t wearing one.

The admin staff are cautiously hopeful; the senior division heads less so.

And everyone’s watching to see if you crash and burn. ”

I opened one eye. “Encouraging.”

She leaned down, her lips brushing my ear. “They should be afraid of you. It’ll save time.”

I pulled away subtly, pushing my chair back as I rose. Kara moved aside, her expression revealing nothing but a flicker in her eyes.

Walking to the window, I gazed out at the now-empty courtyard. “It’s worrying to hear how many incidents there’ve been—more than reported. I’m surprised so few have died.”

Kara loosely folded her arms. “If it’s not stopped, it’ll escalate.”

I glanced at her. “It always does.”

“It’s the supe factions that bother me,” she said quietly. “Right now, they’re being quiet. Maybe licking their wounds after so many died in Bay Uni. But it feels like they’re just readying for … the next something.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” I looked back out of the window, watching the faint movement of traffic beyond the gates. The protestors had gone home, but left their banners tied to the fences. “What happens when they’re ready?”

“Then it stops being unrest,” she said. “And becomes a full-blown confrontation.”

The door swished open and I turned to see Natalie, her gaze flitting in concern between Kara and me. “I’m just letting you know I’m heading home.”

“Thank you, Natalie. You’ve been a godsend.”

“You’re welcome.” She hesitated. “Do you really think it’s going to escalate that far?”

“Too early to say,” I said, deliberately vague because she wouldn’t like the alternative. I gave her an encouraging smile. “All the more reason to get our messaging right over the coming days.”

“Yes, sir.” Natalie drew herself up. “You can count on me.”

“You’ve already demonstrated that. Go on home, we’re about done anyway.”

“Thank you, sir—Xan. Good night to both of you.”

The echo of her heels on the floor faded into the quiet of the office.

“There is a storm coming,” I said, half to myself. “Your father knows it, too. This is more than just a hunt for a collaborator.”

I sighed and turned from the window. “Let’s go home. Another day tomorrow, and I’m not looking forward to round two with Firth.”