en. The man didn't just walk into a room, he owned it, like even gravity obeyed his orders. Cassian's gaze slid from the flickering override panel to the chip now buried in the control boa

he kind of fluid efficiency that surprised even Celia. "Remind me to ask where you learned that," she shouted. "Boarding school," he panted. Of course. Cassian remained near the doorway, untouched, watching the chaos unfold like a conductor at the crescendo of a symphony. He didn't need to lift a weapon-he had people for that. But then his voice rang out, cold and commanding. "Stand down." The remaining guards froze, confused. "Father?" one asked. "I said, stand down." Slowly, reluctantly, they lowered their weapons. Celia held her aim. "What are you playing at?" Cassian stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "You won't get far. Not with the system rebooting. Not with a prototype that's now traceable by every satellite I own." "We don't need to run," Lawrence said. "You lost." Cassian chuckled again, a dark, knowing sound. "You think uploading that little broadcast changes anything? Let the city know. Let them all scream. Give them a day, maybe two of righteous fury." He leaned in slightly. "Then they'll remember the lights in their homes come from my grid. The food in their domes grows with my reactors. And the orbiters that protect them from offworlders? My ships." "You're bluffing," Celia growled. "They'll revolt."