November 27, 2024 — 8:00 AM
Sentinel HQ, Executive Level
The moment the elevator doors slid open, Matthew knew the temperature had changed.
It wasn't the actual temperature—the climate control settings in Sentinel's executive wing were tuned to precise, unchanging comfort levels.
It was the atmosphere.
The careful looks. The sudden, sharper edge to greetings. The way some junior executives straightened papers that didn't need straightening when he passed.
And the subtle way every glance flickered toward Angel when she walked in two steps behind him.
Not hostile.
Not unfriendly.
But watchful.
Different.
Matthew adjusted the strap of his bag and kept his expression easy, casual, as if he hadn't noticed a thing. But Angel, ever perceptive, caught it too. Her fingers brushed against his lightly as they passed through the glass doors.
Confirmation.
They both knew.
Their world inside Sentinel was shifting—just slightly, just enough to feel it.
And they'd have to navigate it.
