Commander Edwards came to my dorm not long after the fighting stopped. Austin was with him, solid and silent in that way he gets when he’s bracing himself, and Owen followed a few steps behind, looking like he’d aged a year in one night.
Edwards didn’t sit. He stood near the desk, posture formal, eyes sharp but not unkind. This wasn’t an interrogation, not really, but it wasn’t casual either.
He needed answers.
And unfortunately, the only people who could give them were me and Owen.
Most of the questions were about Alpha James. His habits. His tactics. His temperament. How far he was willing to go. What lines he would or wouldn’t cross. Edwards asked calmly, writing things down, occasionally glancing up to read our faces.
What surprised me was Owen.
He didn’t hesitate.
He told Edwar
