Alistair POV
Morning comes too quickly.
None of us say it out loud, but it's there—in the way we sit around the table, untouched food between us, tension thick enough to choke on.
No one slept well. Not after everything.
"We need a plan," Lyra says, breaking the silence first. Her voice is steady, but there's an edge to it.
Cassian leans back slightly in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes distant in that way he gets when he's already ten steps ahead. "We ask to leave. Directly. No hesitation."
"And when they refuse?" Lyra presses.
"They will," I mutter.
Sarafina glances at me briefly, then back at Cassian. "Then what?"
Cassian's gaze sharpens. "Then we stop playing along."
"That's not a plan," Lyra says.
"It's the reality," he replies calmly.
Sarafina exhales softly before speaking. "We should consider staying."
That—Shifts everything.
Cassian's head turns toward her slowly. "No."
Lyra hesitates, then says, "Wait… hear her out."
